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LIFE STORIES FOR rOUNG PEOPLE 



THE LITTLE DAUPHIN 



LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG 
PEOPLE 

Translated from the German by 
GEORGE P. UPTON 

8 Vols. Ready 

Beethoven William Tell 

Mozart The Little Dauphin 

Bach Frederick the Great 

Maid of Orleans Maria Theresa 

Eachj ivith ^ Illustrations, 6o cents net 




H 



AFPY days in the garden 



Life Stories for Toung People 



THE 

LITTLE DAUPHIN 

Translated from the Gerjjian of 

Franz Hoffmann 

] t 

BY 

GEORGE P. UPTON 

Translator of ^^ Memories^'' author of ^^ Upton Handbooks on 

Music y''' editor ^* Autobiography of Theodore 

Thomas j^"" etc.y etc. 

WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS 




CHICAGO 
C. McCLURG ^ CO 

1905 



SEP B& 1906 






Copyright 

A. C. McClurg & Co. 

1905 

Published September 16, 1905 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 



Zxnn^lntnv'^ '§xttntt 



(^ — I r~^HE story of Louis Charles, second son 
of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, 
is one of the most pathetic in the history 
of royalty, and has an added interest be- 
cause of the attempts of many romancers and some 
historical writers to raise doubts as to his fate. 
Tlie brief space of the little Dauphin's life is meas- 
ured by the awful period of the French Revolu- 
tion and Reign of Terror. Franz Hoffmann, the 
writer of the original (which was published under 
the title of " Ein Konigssohn,'* or, "A Kings 
Son "), follows the ordinarily accepted version that 
the Dauphin was separated from the King and 
Queen and confined in the Temple, and that after 
their execution he was deliberately and cruelly 
allowed to waste away in body and become the 
victim of hopeless disease, remaining thus until 
death ended his sufferings and the inhuman bar- 
barity of his keepers. In the course of his narrative 
the author touches upon the most striking events 
of the Revolution, that "dreadful remedy for a 
dreadful disease," as it has been called, and brings 
out in strong relief the character of the well-meaning 
but weak King and imperious Queen, as well as 
that of the brutal cobbler Simon, the Dauphin's 

[v] 



# TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE^ 

keeper ; but the principal interest centres in the 
pathetic figure of the little prince. The historic 
doubts raised as to the Dauphin's fate also lend 
interest to the tale. One of these has to do with 
the identity of NaundorlF, who passed himself off 
as the Duke of Normandy, the Dauphin's title, and 
the other with the Rev. Eleazar WiUiams of Green 
Bay, Wisconsin, missionary among the Indians. 
The claims put forth by friends of Williams at- 
tracted widespread attention and provoked much 
discussion in this country and France, half a cen- 
tury ago, because of the extraordinary coincidences 
attaching to the alleged identity. It is the gen- 
erally accepted verdict of history, however, that the 
Dauphin was the victim of the Revolution and 
died in the Temple in 1795, and as such he appears 
in these pages. The details of his fate can never 
be stated with accuracy, so involved and uncertain 
is the tragic mystery, but Hoffmann's narrative is 
undoubtedly correct in its general outlines. There 
are almost as many different versions as there are 
histories of that thrilling period. 

G. P. U. 

Chicago, 1905 



[vi] 



€(inttnt^ 



I Sunny Days ......... ii 

II The Night of Varennes .... 30 

III In the Temple ........ 65 

IV Separation from his Mother . . 79 
V The Cobbler Simon 93 

VI The End of Sorrows 126 

Appendix 149 



Happy days in the garden .... Frontispiece 

Facing page 

The King's last farewell 76 

The Cobbler and his little victim .... 120 
The Dauphin and the sparrows . . . . 138 



•r ZXxt %ittlt SuupMn f 



Chapter I 
Sunny Days 




'ITHIN the grounds of the Tuileries, 
— that splendid palace of the King of 
France, — at the end of a terrace over- 
looking the water, there was, in 1790, 
a small garden surrounded by a neat trellis and ad- 
joining a pavilion occupied by the Abbe Daveaux, 
tutor of the Dauphin, or Crown Prince, Louis 
Charles.^ 

On a certain bright July morning in that year a 
handsome, graceful boy about ivM^ years old entered 
this garden. He was richly and carefully dressed, 
and was accompanied by a small detachment of 
soldiers in the uniform of the National Guard, who 



1 Louis Charles, Duke de Normandie, second son of Louis XVI and Marie 
Antoinette, was born at Versailles March 27, 1785, became Dauphin in 1789, and 
three years later was imprisoned in the Temple, where he died June 8, 1795. At 
the time this story opens, he was the only son. His brother, Louis Joseph Xavier 
Fran9ois, born October 22, 1781, died June 7, 1789. He had two sisters, Maria 
Theresa Charlotte, born December 19, 1778, married the Duke d'Angouleme, 
eldest son of Charles X of France, died October 19, 185 1 j and Sophia Helene 
Beatrice, born July 9, 1786, died June 16, 1787. 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

followed him on foot to the gate in the trellis and 
stationed themselves there as sentinels. The boy 
bowed courteously to them and said, smiling : " I 
am sorry, gentlemen, my garden is so small I can- 
not have the pleasure of receiving you in it, but I 
will do the best I can," and quickly gathering a 
handful of flowers, he proceeded to distribute them 
among his escort with such winning sweetness that 
the bearded soldiers could scarcely restrain their 
emotion. 

After busying himself for some time in this way, 
the boy took from a corner one of the small but 
handsomely finished garden tools that had evidently 
been specially adapted to his use, and went industri- 
ously to work removing the weeds which had sprung 
up among the flowers, and spading the soil of a small 
bed to prepare it for setting out some young plants 
which he had brought with him in a pretty little 
basket. He worked with such energy and absorp- 
tion that beads of perspiration stood on his forehead, 
and he did not observe that his tutor, the Abbe 
Daveaux, had entered the little garden and was 
watching his labors with loving interest. 

" That will do, my Prince,'* said the Abbe, finally. 
" You must not fatigue yourself too much or you 
[12] 



SUNNY DAYS 



will not be able to give proper attention to your 
lessons." 

The boy immediately laid down his tool and 
with a bright smile greeted his tutor, who gently 
brushed the clustering curls from his flushed face. 
As he stood there, glowing with health and breath- 
less from the exercise which had brought a bright 
color to his cheeks, with the frank, fearless glance 
of his great blue eyes shaded by dark lashes, the 
wide, fair brow, the fresh red lips, the dimple in his 
rounded chin, and the almost angelic expression of 
innocence on his face — it would have been hard to 
find a lovelier child. His figure was slender and 
delicate, his motions full of grace and vivacity, while 
in his manner and bearing there was something 
noticeably distinguished, combined with a confiding 
trustfulness that won all hearts. 

Universally admired for his beauty and beloved 
for his nobility of mind, his tender heart, and the 
sweet friendliness he showed to all with whom he 
came in contact, this boy was Louis Charles, Dau- 
phin of France, destined in the ordinary course of 
events to be the future ruler of one of the mightiest 
kingdoms of the world. Tenderly beloved by his 
parents, the unfortunate King Louis the Sixteenth 

[^3] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

and the imperious Grand Duchess Marie Antoi- 
nette^; surrounded by all the pomp and splendor 
of a kingdom, and sheltered with loving solicitude 
from every shadow of evil, as yet he had known only 
the sunny days of happy, careless childhood ; but 
already above him were gathering the dark clouds 
which were to eclipse the sunshine of his life ever- 
more and transform the serene happiness of his par- 
ents into bitter trouble and untold misery. Alas ! 
what a cruel fate had destiny reserved for this beau- 
tiful boy whose blue eyes looked out so bravely 
and trustfully upon the world ! But of all this he 
had little foreboding as he gave himself up to the 
full enjoyment of his innocent happiness with all 
the light-hearted unconsciousness of a child. 

"Just see, M. Abbe, how busy I have been this 
morning 1 " said the boy, after he had given the 
usual morning greetings to his tutor. " I have 
taken out all the weeds and planted this bed with 
fine asters, which will please my mother very much 
when they blossom. You know, M. Abbe, how 
much she loves flowers ! " 



1 Louis XVI, grandson of Louis XV, was born at Versailles August 23, 1754. 
In 1770 he married Marie Antoinette, daughter of the Emperor Francis I and 
Maria Theresa, of Austria. Louis XVI was guillotined January 21, 1793, and 
Marie Antoinette October x6, 1793. 

[H] 



SUNNY DAYS 



" I do, indeed, my Prince," answered M. Daveaux, 
" and it is very nice and thoughtful of you to take 
her a nosegay every morning; but I cannot under- 
stand why you exert yourself to do all that digging, 
weeding, watering, and planting when a gardener 
would do it for you in a few moments." 

The httle Prince shook his head earnestly. " No, 
no, M. Abbe," he replied after a moment's re- 
flection ; " my father gave me this garden so that 
I should have the care of it. And besides," he 
added with a charming smile, " I must make these 
flowers grow myself, because mamma would not 
like them half so well if anyone else had done 
it." 

" You are right, my Prince," said the Abbe, sur- 
prised and touched by the boy's remark, which 
showed so much affection for his mother. " Go on 
planting your flowers, and I hope they may thrive 
entirely to your satisfaction." 

" Oh, they are growing finely, M. Daveaux," 
answered the Prince, proudly. " You will see what 
a large bunch I can pick in just a moment " ; and 
with a zeal and energy inspired by his love for his 
mother he examined all the flowers in his little 
garden, selected the largest and freshest blossoms, 

[1 5] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

and bound them into a bouquet which he arranged 
with much care and taste. 

" Look, M. Abbe/* said he, holding out his nose- 
gay with childish triumph, " do you not think my 
mother will be pleased with this ? It makes me 
very unhappy when the weather is bad and I can- 
not work in my garden, for how can I be happy, 
M. Abbe, when I have not earned mamma's first 
kiss with my bouquet? But now I must go and 
feed my rabbits, and then hurry to her with the 
flowers." 

In a corner of the garden there was a small en- 
closure walled in with bricks, where some pretty 
tame rabbits were kept by the Prince. They recog- 
nized him with evident pleasure, and came quickly 
at his call as he bountifully distributed among them 
fresh cabbage leaves and carrots provided for the 
purpose. After this visit to his pets, the Dauphin 
turned back toward the palace to make his usual 
morning call on his mother, but once more he was 
detained. 

Before the iron railings that separated the garden 

from the open street stood a poor woman, who was 

gazing at the Prince with longing eyes, but had not 

ventured to address him. Perceiving instantly that 

[.6] 



SUNNY DAYS 



she seemed to be in trouble, he approached her and 
asked kindly : " What is the matter, my good 
woman ? Can I do anything for you ? " 

The woman burst into tears. " Oh, my Prince," 
she stammered, " I am very poor and have a sick 
child at home, — it is a boy, my Prince, and just as 
old as you, — and he is waiting anxiously for my 
return. But I cannot bear to go back to him with 
empty hands ! " 

" Wait a moment," replied the Prince, after he 
had convinced himself that the woman was really 
poor and needy. " I am going to see my mother, 
and will be back directly." 

With hasty steps he ran on, and disappeared in 
the palace ; but in less than ten minutes he was back 
again with a beaming face. 

" Here, my good woman," he said in his gentle 
voice, as he handed her a bright new gold piece 
through the railings, " that is from my mother. 
And this," he added, snatching one of the finest 
roses from his garden, " this is from me for your 
sick boy. I hope he will soon be well again " ; 
and before the astonished woman could utter her 
thanks the little Dauphin had vanished again, hardly 
hearing the loud acclamations of the crowd which 

[17] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

had gathered outside the paHngs and . witnessed his 
generous deed. 

At no time was the young Prince gayer or more 
charming than with his mother, whom he adored 
above all the world. As she did not wish his mind 
overtaxed with learning during his tender years, she 
taught him herself the rudiments of his education 
before giving him into the hands of his tutor, and 
nothing could equal the motherly care and solicitude 
she bestowed on the task. If the boy became weary, 
the Queen would seat herself at the piano or harp 
and play for him little melodies, full of expression, 
which she had either learned or composed herself, 
observing with pleasure that his ear was very sensi- 
tive to the charm of melody ; or she would some- 
times read to him fairy tales, fables, or stories from 
history, to which the little Prince listened with the 
liveliest interest. Every emotion aroused by these 
appeals to his imagination showed itself on his sen- 
sitive, animated features. Exclamations of wonder 
or excitement occasionally escaped him at the recital 
of stirring events or adventures which his mind 
could readily grasp ; but whenever anything escaped 
his comprehension or was not clear to him, his brow 
clouded, and a stream of questions immediately fol- 
[18] 



SUNNY DAYS 



lowed. Nor was he satisfied until he fully under- 
stood. At such times he often astonished those 
about him with observations and reflections that 
awakened the liveliest hopes for the future of the 
royal child, — hopes unhappily doomed to be so 
soon blasted! 

After the little Dauphin had made the poor 
woman happy with his gift, he returned for a mo- 
ment to his mother to thank her again for the gold 
piece, and then went to give the King his morning 
greetings. 

" What is this I hear, my dear Charles ? " said the 
King, smiling and shaking his finger at the Prince. 
" M. Hue has been telling me strange things of 
you." M. Hue was one of the Prince's attendants. 

" What things, papa ? " asked the boy. " I don't 
remember doing anything bad." 

"No.? Think well, Charles. Yesterday, while 
you were reciting your lesson, you began to whistle. 
Did you not deserve a rebuke for that .? " 

The Prince colored. Then he answered quietly : 
" Yes, papa, I remember. I repeated my lesson so 
badly that I whistled to myself." 

" Nevertheless you see it was heard," replied the 
King. "You may be forgiven for that, however, 

[^9] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

but we have not come to the end yet. Afterwards 
you were in such high spirits that you tried to run 
away and dash through the rose-bushes in the gar- 
den. M. Hue warned you, and said, ' Monseigneur, 
a single one of those thorns might wound your face 
badly, or even put out your eye ! * And what answer 
did Monseigneur make ? " 

Somewhat abashed, the Prince lowered his eyes. 
" I said : ^ It is the thorny path that leads to glory ! ' 
And is not that true, papa ? " 

The King*s face assumed a more serious expres- 
sion. "Yes, yes, the principle is right," he 
answered, " but you have misapplied it, my child. 
There is no glory in risking your eyesight merely 
to gratify a mischievous impulse. If it had been a 
question of killing a dangerous beast, of rescuing a 
human being from peril, in short, if you had risked 
your life to save another, that might have been 
called glory ; but your act, Charles, was simply 
thoughtless and imprudent. Beside, child, you 
had better wait and not talk of glory until you are 
able to read the history of your ancestors and our 
French heroes like Guesclin, Bayard, Turenne, and 
many others who have defended our crown with 
their blood." 
[20] 



SUNNY DAYS* 



This mild but earnest exhortation made a deep 
impression on the heart of the young Prince. He 
seized his father's hand, kissed it, and said in a low 
voice, "Very well, dear papa, after this I will find 
my glory in following your counsels and in obeying 
you. 

" Then we are good friends again," answered the 
King; "and now we will look over your exercises 
for a few moments, so that M. Hue and M. Daveaux 
may be pleased with you." 

The King, as well as the Queen, observed with 
pride the talents of his son, and it afforded him much 
pleasure to be present during the lesson hours and 
examine the exercises and copy-books. He fre- 
quently instructed the Prince himself, and by his 
praise or censure encouraged in the boy a habit of 
diligence and attention to what was being impressed 
upon his mind. Together with his wife he guided 
the education of the young Prince, and even con- 
tinued the practice in later and less happy days, 
when, deprived of his crown, he had to accustom 
himself to the gloom of a prison cell. 

Soon the Abbe Daveaux appeared, and the usual 
instruction in religion, reading, history, and geogra- 
phy began. The Prince was particularly attentive 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

on this day, for his father's gentle admonition had 
sunk deep into his heart and spurred his zeal to 
the utmost. 

"You have been very bright and industrious 
to-day, my Prince/* said M. Daveaux, when study- 
time was over, " and I am glad, therefore, that I 
have a pleasant piece of news for you." 

" What news ? " asked the Prince, quickly. 

" This, — that a company of small soldiers has 
been formed in Paris under the name of Regiment 
of the Dauphin,' which wishes to have you for its 
Colonel. I am sure you will accept this post of 
honor with pleasure." 

" Yes, indeed, if papa will allow me 1 " replied the 
Prince, with sparkling eyes. 

" Your papa," answered the King himself, " has 
not only already given his consent, but is willing for 
you to receive the young gentlemen who have come 
to pay their respects to their new Colonel." 

" Come already ? Where shall I find them?" 
asked the Prince, eagerly. 

** In your garden," replied the King. " M. Da- 
veaux will be good enough to accompany you." 

Beaming with joy, the Crown Prince hastened 
with his tutor to the garden, where he greeted the 

[22] 



SUNNY DAYS 



little deputation, most of whom were not more than 
four or five years older than himself, with graceful 
courtesy and announced his readiness to accept the 
post of Colonel of their regiment. 

" Now it will be adieu to your flowers and the 
nosegays for your mamma, I suppose ? '' said the 
Abbe. 

" Oh, no ! " returned the Dauphin, gayly, " re- 
viewing my Grenadiers will not prevent me from 
taking care of my flowers. Some of these young 
soldiers have little gardens of their own ; they will 
love the Queen, too, like their Colonel, and in the 
future, instead of a single one, mamma will receive 
a whole regiment of bouquets every day." 

The little soldiers loudly applauded their new 
commander*s speech, and the best relations were at 
once established between them and continued with- 
out a break for several weeks. His small Guards 
afforded the Prince the greatest pleasure, until they 
were dispersed in the stormy times which soon 
followed. 

By this time the day was considerably advanced, 
and the Abbe was obliged to remind his pupil that 
his mother would be waiting for him and he must 
dismiss the envoys of the Regiment of the Dauphin. 

[233 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

The Prince gave his hand courteously to his little 
comrades and followed his tutor to the Queen's 
apartment. His reception, however, was by no 
means such as he expected. His mother greeted 
him with a very serious face and gave him only her 
cheek to kiss instead of the usual embrace. Prince 
Louis Charles, who was acutely sensitive, perceived 
at once that something was amiss and looked at his 
mother timidly and somewhat perplexed. 

" What fault have I committed now, mamma ? " 
he asked. 

" Ah, the young gentleman's conscience troubles 
him already," replied the Queen. " Perhaps he can 
tell me about the trick that was played on the page 
who attended him yesterday on the terrace. I hope 
he will not attempt to deny it ! " 

The Prince's delicate face grew crimson, for he 
remembered very well to what his mother referred. 
The day before, while they were walking together, 
he had mischievously taken a flute from his com- 
panion's pocket and hidden it in a fir-tree on the 
terrace. In a faltering voice he confessed his 
guilt. 

"Very good," said the Queen; "your confession 
mitigates your fault somewhat, but nevertheless such 
[24] 



SUNNY DAYS # 



pranks cannot be passed over without punishment. 
It is out of the question, of course, to imprison the 
newly appointed Colonel of a regiment, but there is 
Mouflet ! Mouflet was with you at the time. He 
was in a way the accomplice of his master, and since 
that master may not be punished, Mouflet must 
suffer for him. Let Mouflet be called and placed 
in arrest for two hours ! " 

Mouflet was a pretty little dog, dearly loved by 
the Prince, and on this afl:ection the Queen relied 
in her punishment of the Dauphin. Nor was she 
mistaken as to its effect. 

Confined in a dark little cabinet, deprived alike 
of his freedom and the sight of his young master, 
poor Mouflet began to whine dolefully, to scratch 
at the door, and finally to howl with all his might. 
His lamentations found an echo in the tender heart 
of the real culprit and filled it with pity and re- 
morse. Weeping, he hastened to his mother and 
tearfully kissed her hand. 

" But, mamma," said he, " Mouflet is not the 
one who has done wrong. Why should the poor 
dog be punished ? Oh, please set him free and put 
me in his place ! " 

Delighted as the Queen was at this proof of the 

[^5] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

Prince's sense of justice, and gladly as she would 
have pardoned him, she felt that for the sake of 
discipline she must not yield to her feelings, and 
replied gravely : " Very well, since you feel that 
you deserve the punishment, I will not prevent you 
from enduring it. You may release poor Mouflet 
and be locked up in his place for an hour." 

Rejoiced at this decision, the Prince accepted his 
sentence at once and even extended it beyond the 
allotted time. But this was not all. In the soli- 
tude of his prison he began to reflect upon his 
behavior, and told himself that even though he had 
atoned for his fault the wrong had not yet been 
righted. He resolved that as soon as he was at 
liberty he would go to the garden, get the flute 
from its hiding-place, and give it back to his play- 
mate with a request for forgiveness. A loving 
glance, a tender caress from his mother, were the 
rewards of his victory over himself; and these signs 
that he was forgiven made the little Prince so happy 
and contented that for the rest of the day he was 
the most polite and well-behaved of boys and gave 
not the slightest occasion for a word or even a look 
of reproof 

Some days later, on the fourteenth of July, 1790, 
[26] 



SUNNY DAYS 



a great fete was held on the Champ de Mars ^ in 
Paris, as in all the other cities of France, to celebrate 
the inauguration of the new regime. The storm of 
the Revolution which had broken out in the previ- 
ous year seemed to have passed away with this cel- 
ebration, and there was a general feeling of hope 
and cheerful expectancy even among the opponents 
of the new order of things. All the people, without 
distinction of rank or class, had contributed to the 
erection of a huge amphitheatre-like structure built 
around the Champ de Mars, and in its construc- 
tion had treated one another like members of one 
great family. Even the heavy gusts of rain which 
ushered in the long-talked-of day failed to dampen 
the ardor of the deputies and the vast throng of 
people assembled there. The endless processions 
followed each other in perfect order ; and at last the 
sun burst forth triumphantly from the mists and 



1 The Champ de Mars is a large square on the left bank of the Seine, devoted 
to military exercises. From a very early period it has been the scene of battles, 
riots, pageants, festivals, and great public gatherings. Besides the Fete of the Fed- 
eration, sometimes called the *' Feast of the Pikes," nientioned above, it was the 
scene of the Massacres in 1791, and of the " Fete a I'Etre supreme," the latter a 
festival in which an effort was made, under the auspices of Robespierre, who had 
obtained a decree from the Assembly recognizing the existence of the Supreme 
Being and the immortality of the soul, to set up a new religion in the place of 
Catholicism and reason worship. Carlyle calls it *' the shabbiest page of human 
annals." 

C^7] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

rain clouds. First, Lafayette^ mounted the steps 
of the high altar erected under the open sky, where 
Talleyrand,^ Bishop of Autun, with sixty priests, 
read the Mass and consecrated the banners of the 
eighty-three districts of France, and swore, with 
the colors of Paris in his hand, in the name of the 
National Guard and the army of France, to be true 
to the law and the King ; then the President of the 
National Assembly, rising from his seat at the right 
of the King, took the same oath ; and finally the King 
himself arose and swore with uplifted arms to use all 
the power bestowed on him by the law and the new 
Constitution for their maintenance. At this instant, 
while cannon thundered and trumpets blared, loud 
shouts arose. The Queen, who was on a raised dais 
beside the throne, carried away by the excitement of 
the moment, lifted her son, the Dauphin, high in 
her arms to show him to the people and also to let 



1 The Marquis de Lafayette was not only a statesman, but a soldier. He served 
with great distinction in the War of the American Revolution, commanded the 
French National Guard, 1789-90, fought the Austrians in 1792, commanded the 
National Guard in 1830, and helped place Louis Philippe on the throne. He came 
to this country twice, the second time in 1824. 

2 Talleyrand, a French Abbe, was made Bishop of Autun in 1788, but he 
was much more celebrated as a statesman and diplomatist. He was prominent in 
all the political events of French history from 1789 to 1834, and was also a leading 
figure in all the diplomatic affairs of that period. He died at Paris May 17, 1838. 



€^ SUNNY DAYS 



him share in the oaths. The lovely child, smiling and 
radiant, stretched out his innocent arms as though 
to invoke a blessing from Heaven upon France, 
whereat the multitude that witnessed the charming 
sight broke forth into cheers and deafening huzzas 
that rent the ragged clouds and penetrated to the 
heavens above. 

The envoys of the people thronged about the 
little Dauphin to offer him their loyalty and hom- 
age, which the Prince received with such grace and 
childish dignity that the enthusiasm broke out afresh, 
and thousands of hearts vowed unswerving allegiance 
to this child whose innocent breast seemed to har- 
bor no thoughts but those of peace and good-will 
to men. The King and Queen embraced each other, 
many eyes were filled with tears, and a general rec- 
onciliation seemed to have closed forever the abyss 
of the Revolution which had threatened to engulf 
unhappy France. 

These were still sunny days ; but, alas ! they 
were the last to shine upon the well-meaning King 
and his unfortunate consort. Fate had doomed them 
to misfortune, and " misfortune travels swiftly." 



[^9] 



Chapter II 
The Night of Varennes 




OON after the celebration of the new r'egime, 
the Hydra of the Revolution, which had 
been for a short time trodden into the dust, 
again lifted its poisonous head. Those evil 
geniuses of France, Robespierre, Marat, and Danton, 
vied with one another in their efforts to disturb the 
peace of the country which had been secured with 
such difficulty, and by calumnies against the King 
to sow the seeds of hatred and distrust of him 
among the people. 

They succeeded only too well. The National 
Assembly issued an unprecedented order to the 
effect that the King should not absent himself from 
Paris for more than twenty-four hours; and if he 
should leave the kingdom, and not return at the 
request of the Assembly, he should be deposed. 

1 Varennes-en-Argonne is a small town in the department of Meuse on the 
river Aire. 



[30] 



# THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

Notwithstanding this order, the King determined 
on a journey to St. Cloud. At eleven o'clock in the 
morning he attempted to start, but his carriage was im- 
mediately surrounded by a dense throng of people. 
A troop of mutinous soldiers locked the doors of the 
palace, and with threats and shouts levelled their 
bayonets at the breasts of the horses. All Lafayette's 
efforts to appease the tumult were in vain, and after 
two hours of struggle and dispute, during which the 
King was forced to bear the grossest insults and 
abuse, he was obliged to return to his apartments. 

The little Dauphin, who had been eagerly look- 
ing forward to the journey and making a thousand 
plans for his sojourn in St. Cloud, was much grieved 
over this failure of his hopes. To divert his mind 
from the disappointment, after he had returned to 
his room the Abbe Daveaux gave him a volume 
of " The Children's Friend," by Berquin,^ to look 
at. The Prince opened it at random, and cried 
in astonishment : " Just see, M. Abbe ! what a 
curious thing! Look at this title, 'The Little 
Captive ' 1 How strange 1 " 



1 Arnaud Berquin, a French author, was born at Langolran in 1 749, and died 
at Paris in 179 1. He was famous as a writer for children. Among his most 
popular works are "The Children's Friend" and '<The Little Grandison." 

[30 



#THE LITTLE DAUPHIN 4^ 

The child had foretold only too well in applying 
the name of little captive to himself. He, as well 
as his parents, was in fact a prisoner of the people 
and the National Assembly, and their numerous 
jailers behaved so rudely and disrespectfully to 
them that the situation soon became unbearable. 
The unvarying kindness and patience of the King 
served only to multiply the complaints and calum- 
nies of his enemies. Even the Queen could no 
longer appear at her window without exposing 
herself to insults and invectives. At last the yoke 
became so heavy that nothing remained but to 
escape, or break it by force. The kindly heart of 
the King shrank from the latter course, which could 
not be accomplished without bloodshed, so the 
necessary preparations were made for flight — the 
only recourse left him. It was determined to seek 
a refuge in some frontier town and from there to 
carry on negotiations with the arrogant Assembly. 

The King was not entirely without loyal friends. 
By means of a secret correspondence, an arrange- 
ment was made with the Marquis de Bouille,^ a 



1 The Marquis de Bouille, a French general, was born at Auvergne in 1739, ^^^ 
died at London in 1800. He was governor in the Antilles from 1768 to 1782, 
and when the French Revolution broke out was in command at Metz. In 1 790 

[3^] 



* THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

lieutenant-general at the head of an important army 
corps. The troops in Champagne, Alsace, and 
Lorraine were placed under his command, and he 
also guarded the frontier from Switzerland to the 
Moselle and the Sambre. It was arranged between 
him and the King that the latter should go to 
Montmedy, a strong post situated conveniently 
near the frontier. The Marquis proposed, in order 
to lessen the danger, that the party should separate, 
the Queen with the Dauphin going first; but the 
King answered : " If we are to be saved, it must be 
together or not at all." 

On the 29th of April, 1791, the King wrote to 
M. Bouille to procure a coach for the journey, 
large enough to accommodate himself and his entire 
family ; but the general tried to persuade him to 
take, instead, two small, light English travelling- 
carriages, such as were used at that time, which 
would not attract attention. The King unfortu- 
nately would not listen to this suggestion, a seem- 
ingly trivial circumstance, which brought about 
disastrous results. Before he left Paris, he wished 

he quelled the mutiny of the garrison at Nancy, and in the following year made an 
effort to get Louis XVI out of the country ; failing in which, he fled to England, 
where he died a few years afterward. 

3 [33] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

to relieve the Marquis from any responsibility in 
the matter, and sent him therefore a written order 
to station troops along the road from Chalons to 
Montmedy, for the purpose of guarding the safety 
of the persons of the King and his family. 

Their departure was fixed for the night of June 
nineteenth, but was deferred at the last moment by 
an unfortunate occurrence. One of the Queen's 
waiting-women, who, it was feared, might betray the 
plan if she had the least suspicion of it, was dismissed 
from her service that very day, so the journey was 
postponed for twenty-four hours. We shall soon 
see how this fact also contributed to the failure of 
the ill-fated undertaking. 

Haste was imperative. The plan had already be- 
gun to excite suspicion ; for it had become necessary 
to take several persons into the secret, who did not 
guard it with proper care. Even the lower domes- 
tics in the Tuileries whispered of it among them- 
selves, and the rumor, spreading abroad, excited the 
populace to such a degree that the police were formally 
notified. This report naturally resulted in the main- 
tenance of a still stricter surveillance over the pal- 
ace. The royal family was constantly watched in the 
most offensive way ; the people even became so 
[34] 



* THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

bold as to lock the King and Queen in their own 
apartments at night ; and mattresses were placed 
before the doors for the guards to sleep on, so that 
no one could leave the rooms without stepping over 
the bodies of their jailers. This difficulty, however, 
had been foreseen, and an effort made to surmount 
it. Some months before this, a door had been so 
skilfully cut in the woodwork of the chamber occu- 
pied by the King's sister, Madame Elisabeth,^ that 
only the closest scrutiny could discover it. This 
door opened on a small staircase, which led to a 
vaulted passage separating this room from that of 
the Queen. A similar door had been made in the 
royal apartment, and both fitted with keys which 
turned so easily they could be opened instantly, 
without noise or delay. Finally, the precaution had 
been taken to conceal them by means of large cup- 



1 Elisabeth Philippine Marie Helene, sister of Louis XVI, was born at 
Versailles, May 3, 1764, and was guillotined May 10, 1794. Of her courage at 
the scaffold, Carlyle says : *' Another row of tumbrils we must notice : that which 
holds £lisabeth, the sister of Louis. Her trial was like the rest, for plots, for 
plots. She was among the kindliest, most innocent of women. There sat with 
her, amid four-and-twenty others, a once timorous Marchioness de Crussol, 
courageous now, expressing toward her the liveliest loyalty. At the foot of the 
scaffold, Elisabeth, with tears in her eyes, thanked this marchioness, said she 
was grieved she could not reward her. ' Ah ! Madame, would your Royal High- 
ness deign to embrace me, my wishes were complete.' ' Right willingly, Marquise 
de Crussol, and with my whole heart.' " 

[35] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

boards or presses, that opened on both sides and hid 
•the secret doors without preventing passage through 
them. In this way one room could be easily reached 
from the other, and by means of the passage, access 
gained to the interior of the palace, from whence 
it would be easy to reach the open air and freedom. 

On the twentieth of June, at ten o'clock in the 
morning, the little Dauphin was working in his gar- 
den at the end of the Tuileries; at eleven, the Queen 
went to hear mass with her attendants, and on her 
return from the chapel ordered her carriage to be in 
readiness at five in the afternoon. The day passed 
as usual ; but the elder sister of the Dauphin noticed 
that her parents seemed anxious and agitated, and 
confided this observation to her brother. At fivQ 
o'clock the Queen took a little drive with her chil- 
dren, and seized this opportunity to impress upon 
them that they must not be alarmed at anything 
that might occur in the course of the evening or 
night. The children were clever enough to perceive 
their mother's meaning, and the little Prince assured 
her she might be quite easy with regard to him. 

After the King and his family had eaten their 
evening meal at the usual hour, all retired to their 
apartments. The Dauphin was put to bed at nine 
[36] 



* THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

o'clock, the Princess, his sister, at ten ; the Queen 
retired at half-past ten, and the King a few moments 
later. The servants were given the seemingly neces- 
sary orders for the following morning ; the doors 
were locked, the sentries took their usual precautions, 
and at Madame Elisabeth's door the guard was 
doubled. But scarcely had the serving-people with- 
drawn, when the King, the Queen, and Madame 
Elisabeth carefully arose, dressed themselves quickly, 
and in a few moments were ready for the journey. 
The Queen went into her daughter's room to awaken 
her and her waiting-woman, Madame Brunier. She 
acquainted the latter with the plan for escape, in- 
formed her that she and Madame de Neuville had 
been chosen to accompany them, and requested her 
finally to dress the Princess as quickly as possible 
and bring her into the Dauphin's chamber. The 
clothes had been already prepared. The dress for 
the little Princess was of cheap brown stuff and very 
simply made, in order that the rank of the fugitive 
might not be suspected, while the Dauphin was 
dressed as a girl, and looked most charming in his 
new costume. But, aroused from his first sleep at 
eleven o'clock at night, he could not understand 
what was going on about him, and fell asleep again 

[37] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

immediately. His sister awoke him once more, 
and whispered : 

" Charles, Charles ! what do you think of all 
this?" 

To which he replied sleepily, and with half-closed 
eyes, " I think it is a comedy we are going to act, 
because we are dressed up so strangely." 

At the time fixed for departure, both children 
were taken out into the passage, where they were 
joined a moment later by the Queen. She took 
them by the hand and led the way, Madame de 
Neuville, Madame Brunier, and Madame de Tour- 
zel, the Dauphin's governess, following. They de- 
scended a staircase, hurried through several dark 
corridors to a door in the farthest corner of the 
courtyard, which had been left unguarded, and near 
which a hackney-coach was standing. It had 
been agreed they should not all leave the palace 
together, for fear of attracting the attention of the 
sentries, so the Queen lifted her children into the 
coach, entrusted them to the care of Madame de 
Tourzel, and returned to the palace. The driver 
was Count Axel Fersen^ — a Swedish gentleman 



1 Count de Axel Fersen, who accompanied the King in this flight, was born at 
Stockholm, September 4, 1755, and was murdered in the same city, June 20, 18 10, 

[38] 



THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 



who, next to M. de Bouille, enjoyed the highest 
favor at court. He drove out of the courtyard, 
took a roundabout way through the quarter to 
elude observation, and then came back to the 
Petit Carrousel, where he was to wait for the rest 
of the party. While they stood there, Lafayette's 
carriage drove by, surrounded by torch bearers; 
he was on his way to the Tuileries, but recognized 
no one and observed nothing ; for that matter, the 
Dauphin was in the bottom of the coach, hiding 
under his governess's skirt. 

An hour passed, but no one came. Finally 
Madame Elisabeth arrived, and not long after her 
the King appeared. The Queen was only a short 
distance behind him, but she caught sight of La- 
fayette's carriage again approaching, and, afraid of 
being discovered, hurried down one of the narrow 
streets near by. Confused by the labyrinth of alleys, 
she lost her way, and dared not ask it of anyone 
so near the palace. Thus another precious half- 
hour was lost before she found the coach again. 
At last they started, and reached the new Barrier 

by the populace, who suspected that he and his sister had been concerned in the death 
of Prince Christian of Holstein-Augustenburg, who was to be the successor of 
Charles XIII, Count Fersen was commander of the Royal Swedish Regiment in 
the service of Louis XVI. 

[39] 



#THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

of the suburb St. Martin, without further mishap, 
where they found the large travelling-coach await- 
ing them, drawn by five strong horses, although it 
was fully two hours past the time agreed on. 

It was the shortest night of the year, and the 
first faint light of dawn was already visible in 
the sky, as, shortly after two o'clock, the carriage 
containing the royal family rattled up. The change 
to the waiting travelling-coach was made without 
delay, and Count Fersen swung himself onto the 
box beside his coachman, Balthasar Sapel. 

" Drive on, quickly ! '* he ordered. " Make 
haste ! " They started forward. Their roles were 
distributed as follows : Madame de Tourzel was to 
appear as the Baroness von Korlf; the Princess 
and the Dauphin as her daughters Amalie and 
Algan ; the Queen passed as the children's govern- 
ess, Madame Rochet ; Madame Elisabeth per- 
sonated the waiting-woman called Rosalie ; the King 
took the part of valet-de-chamhre under the name of 
Durand ; and three officers of the bodyguard who 
accompanied them. Messieurs de Maldent, de 
Moustier, and de Valory, passed for servants and 
couriers. All were suitably dressed. 

Count Fersen, on the coachman's box in front, 
[40] 



» THE NIGHT OF VARENNES # 

constantly cracked the whip and urged the driver 
on. " Faster ! faster ! Balthasar ! '* he called to 
him. "Do not spare the horses — they will have 
time enough to rest when we are safe with the 
regiment." The horses almost flew, but their furious 
speed seemed slow to the anxious impatience of 
the Count, who realized but too well the dangers 
of the enterprise. Bondy was reached in half an 
hour, and here, through the forethought of M. de 
Valory, six fresh horses were waiting for them, 
while he himself rode on in advance to Claye to 
take the same precaution there. At Bondy, Count 
Fersen took leave of them with reluctance, and 
returned to Paris, to escape as soon as possible 
to Belgium. 

At Claye the travellers found the waiting-maids, 
Brunier and de Neuville, who had left Paris a little 
before them in a postchaise. It was important to 
continue their journey without delay, but the new 
travelling-coach already needed some repairs, and 
again invaluable time was lost. At the village of 
Etoges, between Montmirail and Chalons, they had 
an anxious moment, fearing themselves recognized. 
The King, with his usual carelessness, allowed him- 
self to be seen too often. He descended from the 

[40 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

coach more than once, walked up one or two of the 
long hills with the children, and even talked with 
some peasants they met. At Chalons, where they 
arrived about noon, they were indeed recognized by 
the postmaster and some other persons who had 
seen the King ; but they were shrewd and loyal, and 
did all in their power to aid the fugitives, harness- 
ing the horses themselves and urging the postilions 
to depart. The travellers were amply supplied with 
provisions, and nowhere was a stop made for meals. 
At the bridge in Sommevesle, the first post-station 
after Chalons, they should have found a detach- 
ment of hussars to act as escort on the road to 
Montmedy ; but when they reached there at six 
o'clock, not a hussar was to be seen. It was dis- 
covered afterward that six hours earlier the troops 
had been at their post, according to orders ; but, 
having already waited some hours, a longer stay 
was deemed imprudent, owing to the suspicious atti- 
tude of the people. M. de Choiseul, the com- 
mander of the hussars, fearful of arousing fresh 
disturbances in Ste. Menehould, had then given 
orders to avoid that town in their retreat, and make 
their way by cross-roads ; and hence the travellers 
missed them altogether. Again the unfortunate 
[42] 



* THE NIGHT OFVARENNES* 

consequences of these delays were felt ; but even 
worse results were to follow. At Ste. Menehould 
an escort of the King's dragoons should have been 
waiting ; but their leader, Captain d'Andoins, had 
been forced to go to the town hall to account for 
the presence of his troops, which had alarmed the 
now excited populace, and was held there virtually 
a prisoner, while his troopers unsaddled their horses 
and dispersed. 

It was here that the King, uneasy over the fail- 
ure of their plans, and putting his head out of the 
coach window, was recognized by the postmaster 
Drouet.-^ The sight of the King struck the fellow 
with amazement; he compared the head of the 
traveller with that of the King stamped on an as- 
signat (the paper money used at that time), and his 
malignant expression betrayed his thoughts. The 



1 " Nor is Postmaster Drouet unobservant all this while, but steps out and 
steps in, with his long flowing nightgown, in the level sunlight, prying into several 
things. . . . That lady in slouched gypsy-hat, though sitting back in the carriage, 
does she not resemble someone we have seen sometime — at the Feast of Pikes or 
elsewhere ? And this Grosse-Tete in round hat and peruke, which, looking rearward, 
pokes itself out from time to time, methinks there are features in it — ? Quick, 
Sieur Guillaume, Clerk of the Directoire, bring me a new assignat ! Drouet 
scans the new assignat, compares the paper-money picture with the Gross Head in 
round hat there, by day and night ; you might say the one was an attempted 
engraving of the other. And this march of troops, this sauntering and whisper- 
ing — I see it." — CarlyWs " French Re-volution.'^ 

[43] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

Queen caught his evil smile and felt her heart sink ; 
but they passed on without hindrance, and she grad- 
ually forgot her fears. The traitor Drouet, however, 
lost no time in profiting by his discovery. He 
communicated it at once to the town council, and 
the whole village was in commotion. At that mo- 
ment a special messenger arrived from Chalons, con- 
firming the news of the King's escape. It was re- 
solved that Drouet, accompanied by a former dragoon 
of the Queen's regiment, should start instantly in 
pursuit of the fugitives, and, in case he succeeded 
in overtaking them, place them under arrest. In 
hot haste they mounted, and set off at furious speed 
in the direction taken by the royal party. 

Meanwhile M. de Damas, with a company of 
dragoons, had arrived at Clermont the previous 
afternoon, at five o'clock, with orders to wait there 
for the King, and as soon as he had passed to follow 
him along the road to Varennes. They remained 
at their post till nightfall, when Damas ordered his 
troopers' horses to be unsaddled and allowed the 
men to disperse. Half an hour later the coach 
arrived, and continued on its way without stopping. 
M. de Damas, who saw it pass, sent an officer to 
summon the dragoons in haste from their quarters. 
[44] 



THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

The town was soon in great excitement ; the coun- 
cil was disturbed ; discussions grew more and more 
heated. When Damas finally gave the signal to 
mount, the troopers refused to obey, and it was with 
the greatest difficulty he persuaded them to follow 
him — another Hnk in the chain of fatalities ! 

The King's coach had scarcely left Clermont when 
Drouet himself arrived, obtained a fresh mount, 
and set off again in hot pursuit. One of the King's 
bodyguard was riding in advance of the coach as 
courier, another behind it as rear guard. Beside 
these, Damas, when he saw Drouet ride off, had 
sent one of his officers to overtake and stop him. 
This man had almost succeeded in his attempt, 
when, favored by the darkness, the traitor turned 
off into by-ways known only to himself, and, 
thoroughly familiar with the country, reached Va- 
rennes shortly after eleven o'clock, fully an hour 
before the King and his family arrived there. 

Varennes was a secluded little village and had no 
post-house, but a place in the outskirts of the town, 
where he might obtain a change of horses, had been 
so carefully described to the King that he had no 
difficulty in finding it. Here they stopped, expect- 
ing to get the horses, but nothing was to be seen of 

[45] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

them. In vain the King knocked on the door; no 
one answered. As a matter of fact, the plan had 
been changed at the last moment, owing to the dis- 
turbances existing all over the country, and the 
horses had been sent to an inn on the other side of 
the river ; but, through more misunderstandings and 
errors, someone had neglected to notify the King. 
Lights were still visible in the house, and the Queen 
herself alighted from the coach and tried to obtain 
some response from the inmates ; but her hope of 
obtaining information by some chance was not real- 
ized, and half an hour was lost. Drouet knew how 
to make the most of the time. When at last the 
travellers were forced to abandon the attempt and 
re-enter the coach, the postilions refused to go 
any farther, pretending that their horses were too 
exhausted to continue the journey. Just then the 
courier returned, bringing with him a man in a 
dressing-gown and with a nightcap on his head. 
As he approached the royal couple they demanded 
impatiently : " Where are our horses, fellow ? Tell 
us at once ! " 

" Your horses ! " he shouted, flinging himself 
almost inside the vehicle. " That I cannot say ; but 
I know another secret I will not tell you." 

[46] 



* THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

" Do you know Frau von KorfF? " asked 
Madame de Tourzel. 

" No/* said he, " but I know something better 
than that"; and with these words he disappeared 
again. At the Queen's entreaties, the postilions 
finally consented to drive the coach at least through 
the town. The travellers now believed themselves 
safe ; they attributed this incident, like the other 
mishaps of their journey, to some error or miscalcu- 
lation, and, full of hope, saw themselves already 
under the protection of Bouille's loyal troops. But 
alas ! matters were soon to assume a different aspect. 

Rightly to understand what follows, it should be 
explained that Varennes is built on the side of a 
hill, and consists of an upper and lower town con- 
nected by a bridge across the Aire, which flows be- 
tween. At that time the town was approached 
from Clermont, not as now by way of a fine square, 
but through a narrow street ending in an arched 
passageway, guarded by a heavy gate which could 
be closed at will. This archway was built under a 
tower, which is still standing ; on one side was a 
church, long since destroyed, and on the other 
a small inn called the Bras d'Or, kept by the Le 
Blanc family. The gateway was used as entrance 

[47] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

to the town in time of peace, and the inn served as 
a sort of watch-house. Beyond the passage was the 
bridge, and it was here that Drouet had placed the 
ambuscade which was to prevent the King's farther 
progress. The host of the Golden Arm tavern was 
also an officer of the National Guard. Aroused by 
Drouet, he ran to call up the mayor of the town, M. 
Sance ; then he and his brother armed themselves, 
and, summoning several of the National Guard, sta- 
tioned themselves before the entrance to the arch- 
way. Sance meanwhile had hastened to alarm the 
town, and sent out messengers to the. nearest villages. 
His son Georges, a captain of grenadiers, took 
command of the guard, and while his other children 
were running through the town at their father's 
command, shouting " Fire ! Fire ! " M. Drouet, 
accompanied by a notary called Regnier and some 
of the townspeople, brought up a loaded wagon, 
which they placed diagonally across the bridge to 
obstruct its passage. AH the preparations were 
complete, when the expected vehicle was heard 
approaching. It passed through the upper town 
without interruption, the houses apparently all dark 
and silent, and came rapidly on, until, just as it 
reached the dark archway under the tower, the 

[48] 



* THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

horses were brought to a sudden standstill by the 
barricade. At the same instant there sounded from 
all sides the cry, "Halt, there! Halt!" — a cry- 
issuing from the rough throats of ten armed men, 
who now emerged from the darkness. They threw 
themselves upon the horses, seized the postilions, 
sprang to both doors of the coach, and harshly de- 
manded of the travellers who they were. 

" Frau von KorfF, with her family ! " came the 
answer. 

"That may be," returned a voice, "but you 
will have to prove it ! " 

At the first shout and the first gleam of weapons, 
the officers of the bodyguard had leaped from their 
places with their hands on their concealed knives, 
ready at a signal from the King to make use of 
them. But Louis the Sixteenth nobly forbade them 
to use force, and the hostile musket barrels remained 
pointing toward the coach. Drouet seized a light, 
held it up to the King's face, and, without calHng 
him by name, ordered him to alight and show his 
passport to the mayor. The King, still clinging 
to the hope that he had not been recognized, 
descended from the coach, his family following him. 

As the party passed up the street, they saw some 
4 [49] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

hussars arriving; it was M. de Choiseul's force, 
which should have waited at the bridge in Som- 
mevesle. The National Guard, whose numbers had 
increased, allowed them to pass, but were ready 
nevertheless to resist any attempt at rescue. By 
this time the malicious activity of Drouet had pro- 
duced its results. The alarm bell was rung, the 
drums beat, all Varennes was astir. Thousands of 
peasants came flocking in from neighboring towns, 
and the villages through which the King had passed 
were thrown into wild excitement by the news of his 
flight. 

The mayor's house, whither the royal family was 
conducted, contained two rooms on the upper floor, 
reached by a spiral staircase. One of them over- 
looked the street, the other the garden. The King 
was lodged in the back room, but, as there was a 
connecting door between, he could see all that 
passed in the street. A dense throng of people 
had gathered there, and increased every moment. 
Sance at first pretended not to recognize his illus- 
trious guests, and, treating them as ordinary trav- 
ellers, explained that the horses could go no farther, 
and besought them to remain and rest until fresh 
relays could be obtained. But this mask of hypoc- 
[50] 



* THE NIGHT OFVARENNES* 

risy was soon thrown aside, and he as well as 
Drouet began to overwhelm the King with cruel 
taunts and bitter invectives. They accused him 
directly of intending to escape to foreign lands for 
the purpose of joining and assisting in an invasion 
of France by her enemies. In vain the King at- 
tempted to deny his rank and claim the liberty 
accorded to all travellers. They declared flatly that 
he and his family were recognized, and continued 
their jeers and abuse. 

" Very well, then," suddenly said the Queen, with 
dignity — she had not hitherto spoken a word — 
" since you recognize him as your King, then see 
that you treat him as such ! " 

These words induced the King to resume his 
natural frankness of manner, which he had with dif- 
ficulty concealed. He explained freely the motives 
which had prompted him to take this journey ; 
spoke of his earnest desire to learn the real needs 
of the people whose welfare was dear to him ; reso- 
lutely denied the false report that he wished to 
escape from France and make his home in a for- 
eign land, and even offered to entrust himself to 
the National Guard of Varennes, and let them ac- 
company him to Montmedy or any other place in 

[51] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

the kingdom where his personal freedom might be 
assured. 

The naturally warm and candid eloquence of the 
King did not fail in its effect. Sance was almost 
ready to give way, and if it had depended only on 
him they might have been allowed to proceed. 
But Drouet had no idea of allowing his prey to 
escape him now ; he became still more violent, and 
declared that his own head might answer for it if 
the King were not sent back to Paris. At this 
moment, too, an incident occurred in the street 
which decided the fate of the royal fugitives. A 
conflict arose between the officers who were on the 
King's side and the National Guard. M. de Gogue- 
lat crowded his horse against the leader of the 
Guard and drew his sword ; the Major discharged 
his pistol at Goguelat and wounded him in the 
shoulder, causing his horse to rear and throw him. 
M. de Choiseul's hussars looked on, but made no 
motion to interfere, and it was evident that they 
could no longer be depended on. All hope was 
now lost; the King's only chance lay in the possible 
arrival of Bouille and his soldiers, but Bouille did 
not appear. Instead, fresh reenforcements of the 
National Guard came pouring in from all sides to 
[5^] 



»THE NIGHT OF VARENNES » 

assist their comrades, and the ever increasing throngs 
overflowed the little town — a town destined from 
this night to claim a melancholy place in history. 

Between six and seven o'clock in the morning, 
two messengers arrived from the National Assem- 
bly, M. de Romeuf, Lafayette's aide-de-camp, and 
Bayon, an officer of the National Guard in Paris. 
They brought a decree of the Assembly, ordering 
the King to be taken back to his capital wherever 
he might be found. Bayon entered alone. Fatigue 
and excitement had given a still darker cast to his 
naturally gloomy expression. With tangled hair 
and disordered attire, he approached the King, and 
stammered confusedly : 

"Sire, you are aware . . . all Paris is in arms . . . 
our wives and children even now perhaps are being 
massacred . . . you will not go any farther away. 
. . . Sire, the welfare of the country . . . yes. 
Sire . . . our wives and children . . ." 

At these words, the Queen with a sudden move- 
ment seized his hands and, pointing to the sleeping 
children on the bed, exclaimed : 

" Sir, am I not also a mother ! " 

" What is your business here ? " demanded the 
King. 

[53] 



* THE LITTLE DAUPHIN# 

" Sire, a decree of the Assembly." 

" Where is it ? " 

" My comrade has it." 

With these words, he opened the door and dis- 
closed M. de Romeuf, who, overcome with emo- 
tion, was leaning against a window in the front room. 
His face was wet with tears. He approached with 
downcast eyes, holding out a paper, which the King 
took from him and glanced through rapidly. 

"Now," he said, " there is no longer a King in 
France ! " 

The children had awakened by this time, and the 
little Dauphin became the object of special interest. 
Some admired his beauty, and others asked him 
questions about his journey and the Tuileries, to 
which the sleepy child scarcely responded, but only 
gazed at his mother. 

"Ah, Charles," his sister whispered to him, 
" you were mistaken, this is no comedy ! " 

" I knew that long ago ! " returned the poor 
child, shrugging his shoulders. 

Meanwhile, the crowd, excited almost to frenzy 

by Drouet, were demanding the King's departure, 

and their shouts and cries came surging upward 

from the street. Some of the most violent even 

[54] 



# THE NIGHT OF VARENNES # 

tried to break into the house and bring him out by- 
force, while above all the tumult arose a scream of 
" Drag him out ! Drag him into his coach ! We 
will have him ! " 

The King attempted to appease them by appear- 
ing at the window, seeking to gain time, in the faint 
hope that any moment might bring Bouille and 
rescue. As a last resort, one of the waiting-women 
declared she was violently ill, and the King and 
Queen refused to desert her. But all their efforts 
were of no avail, and the King realized at last that 
further resistance was hopeless. He requested to 
be left alone with his family for a moment, and, after 
a brief and sorrowful consultation, he yielded and 
announced himself ready to depart. The royal 
mother took her son in her arms and carried him 
herself to the coach. It was half-past seven when 
they started on their return journey — alas ! just a 
quarter of an hour too early ! 

Only a few moments after they had gone, a body 
of troops appeared on the heights overlooking 
Varennes in the direction of Verdun. It was the 
son of M. de Bouille with the cavalry. He tried 
to cross the river by a ford, the bridge being de- 
fended, but was unable to accomplish it, and thus 

[55] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

the last chance of saving the King was lost. Gen- 
eral Bouille arrived soon after at the head of his 
Royal German Regiment, in full gallop, only to 
learn when he reached Mouza that the King had 
left Varennes and that he was too late. Broken- 
hearted, he turned his horse's head, and with his 
faithful and now dejected troops began his retreat 
to the frontier. 

The royal party was already far from Varennes. 
Surrounded by five or six thousand infuriated peas- 
ants, the King was a prisoner in the same vehicle 
that was to have borne him to safety and freedom. 
It was only allowed to proceed at a foot-pace, and 
a whole hour was consumed in reaching Clermont. 
This town, like all the others through which they 
passed, was filled to overflowing. Everywhere the 
shops were closed, the people beside themselves 
with excitement, and hundreds of frantic voices yelled 
denunciations against the King, his nobles, and his 
officers. 

At three in the afternoon Ste. Menehould was 
reached, and the mayor, Furci, a brave and honest 
man, invited the Queen to partake of some refresh- 
ment in the town hall. The weary travellers would 
gladly have remained here some hours to rest, for 

[56] 



* THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

the little Prince, exhausted by his seven-hours' jour- 
ney in the heat and dust, was suffering from 
an attack of fever; but Bayon, the cruel com- 
mander of this sad expedition, refused to gratify 
their desire, and the unfortunate royal family were 
obliged to continue their journey. Here the Na- 
tional Guard of Varennes and Clermont left them, 
and their place was taken by the Guard of Ste. 
Menehould, who were relieved in their turn by those 
of the next town. 

One dreadful occurrence struck terror to the hearts 
of the poor fugitives, and gave them a chill forebod- 
ing of the horrors in store for them. On a hillside 
near the village of Han, a brave nobleman, the 
Marquis de Dampierre, rode up to greet the King 
as he passed. Louis conversed with him for some 
moments, and, as they parted with mutual good 
wishes, M. de Dampierre bowed low and reverently 
kissed the hand of his unhappy sovereign. This 
token of respect was his death-warrant, for scarcely 
had the loyal noble left the coach door when savage 
voices shouted to him to halt, and as he unsuspect- 
ingly obeyed, the mob fell upon him in a fury, tore 
him from his horse, and slaughtered him without 
pity before the eyes of the royal family. His head 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

was cut off and carried on the end of a spear for 
some distance in front of their coach, as a trophy. 

In the midst of such atrocities, it is gratifying 
to hear of one instance which proves there were 
still pure and noble hearts even in those frightful 
times. 

Young Cazotte was the commander of the Na- 
tional Guard in the village of Piercy, and it was his 
duty to receive the King at Epernay, where a stop 
was to be made at the Hotel Rohan. Cazotte's 
men guarded the entrance to this palace, and he ex- 
acted a solemn promise from them to allow no one 
but the authorities to enter. Scarcely were these 
measures taken when the King's coach arrived, al- 
most borne along by the waves of people. The 
prisoners alighted amid a storm of curses, jeers, and 
insults, directed especially against the Queen. 

" Ignore this madness, madame ; God is over all ! " 
said Cazotte to her in German. 

A grateful glance was her only answer as she 
stepped forward, followed by her daughter, Madame 
Elisabeth, and Madame de Tourzel, the crowd 
pressing close behind them. The little Dauphin 
was carried by one of the soldiers. He was crying 
and calling for his mother, who was out of sight. 
[58] 



* THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

Cazotte took him in his arms and tried to soothe 
him, but his tears did not cease to flow until he was 
carried into the room where the Queen had been 
taken. Cazotte's delicate soUcitude for the royal 
family did not end even here ; regardless of what the 
consequences might be, he found a seamstress to 
repair their clothing, which had been torn and 
trampled on by the mob, furnished them with re- 
freshments and such conveniences as he was able to 
obtain, and did all in his power to add to their 
comfort till their departure put an end to his un- 
selfish and kindly service. 

Between Epernay and Dormans they met the 
commission sent out by the National Assembly, con- 
sisting of Barnave, Petion, and the Marquis de 
Latour-Maubourg. They took their places in the 
coach, but Petion and Latour-Maubourg only re- 
mained inside a short time, leaving Barnave alone 
with the travellers. Barnave ^ was one of the minor 
deputies of the people, who amid all the tumult and 
violence of the Assembly had preserved his nobility 
and tenderness of heart. He felt sincere pity for the 



1 Antoine Pierre Barnave, one of the French revolutionists, vv^as deputy to the 
Third Estate in 1789, and President of the National Assembly in 1790. He was 
arrested for alleged treason in 1 791, and was guillotined in 1793. 

[59] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

unfortunate royal family, and, no longer restrained 
by the presence of his colleague, Petion,^ freely 
offered his sympathy. The Queen was touched by 
his considerate behavior, and joined in the conver- 
sation. Barnave, on the other hand, to whom the 
Queen had been painted in the most odious colors, 
was astonished to find her so different from what 
he had expected, and soon began to honor and re- 
spect those he had been taught to hate and despise. 
When the conversation ceased after a time, he took 
the little Prince on his knee and talked with the 
child, whose quick and lively, yet gentle, answers 
impressed him deeply. 

"Are you not sorry to go back to Paris?" he 
asked. 

" Oh, I am happy everywhere," answered the 
Dauphin, " as long as I have my father and mamma 
with me, and my aunt, my sister, and Madame de 
Tourzel, too." 

" Ah, sir," said the King to Barnave, " this is 
indeed a sad journey for me and for my children ! " 

The mournful tone in which these words were 



1 Petion, mentioned in this connection, another of the revolutionists, was 
President of the Constituent Assembly in 1790, and Mayor of Paris in 1791-92. 
He was proscribed in June, 1793, but escaped, and at last committed suicide near 
Bordeaux in 1794. 

[60] 



* THE NIGHT OF VARENNES * 

spoken moved the Dauphin deeply, and he took 
his father's hand and kissed it. The King took 
him in his arms and pressed him to his heart. 

" Do not be unhappy, dear papa," said the child, 
his eyes full of tears. " Some other time we will 
have a pleasanter journey ! " 

At every change of post-horses, the other com- 
missioners came up to see what was passing inside 
the coach. Surprised to find the heir to the throne 
generally seated on Barnave's lap, Petion finally 
remarked in a spiteful tone, loud enough to be 
heard by the travellers : 

" You see, Latour-Maubourg, Barnave is de- 
cidedly the prop of future royalty ! " 

Unhappy Barnave ! He was forced ere long to 
atone with his life for his newly won devotion to 
the royal house and perish on the guillotine ! 

The remainder of the journey passed without 
further incident. Sullen crowds gathered every- 
where to watch the King pass, but no one spoke or 
showed any sign of good-will or favor toward him. 
At Ferte-sous-Jouarre, however, the royal family 
found one hearty welcome from the Regnards, at 
whose house they dined. Although Madame Reg- 
nard wore an apron to avoid recognition, Marie 

[6i] 



#THE LITTLE DAUPHIN » 

Antoinette guessed her position at once, and ap- 
proached her, saying : 

"You are the lady of the house, are you not? '' 

" I was that only until your Majesty entered 
it," answered Madame Regnard ; a reply which 
pleased the Queen and did full honor to the gracious 
mistress of the house. When they were leaving, 
the Queen said to the Dauphin : 

" My son, thank the lady for her kindness, and 
tell her we shall never forget it." 

The little Prince immediately obeyed. " Mamma 
thanks you for your attention," said the child, " and 
I — -I love you very much because you have given 
her pleasure." 

When the coach arrived at Meaux a great tumult 
arose ; a priest nearly lost his life as the poor 
Marquis had done, but Barnave rescued him, calling 
out to the people in thundering tones : 

" Frenchmen, would you become a pack of as- 
sassins ? " Whereupon Petion turned to Latour- 
Maubourg and remarked with a sneer; 

" It appears that our colleague's mission Is not 
only to protect royalty, but also the clergy ! " 

After Barnave's humane action, the Dauphin 
willingly seated himself again on his knee and 
[6^] 



# THE NIGHT OF VARENNES* 

talked to him until they reached Bossuet. At 
eleven o'clock that evening, after his colleagues 
were asleep, Barnave was summoned to the King's 
chamber, where he had a long conference with the 
royal couple in regard to their situation. 

"Evidently," said the Queen, at the end of it, 
"we have been deceived as to the real state of 
public feeling in France." 

They thanked Barnave warmly for his counsel, 
and it was agreed that he should meet them secretly 
in the Tuileries. From this time Barnave inwardly 
swore allegiance to the throne, and kept his vow 
faithfully to the end. 

On the twenty-fifth of June, at seven in the eve- 
ning, the royal party arrived in Paris and entered the 
Tuileries, before the gates of which a vast throng 
had assembled, drunk with wine and fury and with 
difficulty restrained from violence by the National 
Guard. M. Hue lifted the little Dauphin from 
the coach and carried him into his own apartment, 
where he was soon in bed. The child was restless, 
hov/ever, and his sleep very uneasy. In the morn- 
ing when he awoke, he said to his tutor, in a voice 
loud enough to be heard distinctly by the guards 
stationed in the room ; 

[63] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

" Oh, M. Hue, I have had such a horrible 
dream ! I thought there were wolves and tigers 
and all kinds of wild beasts around me all night 
long, waiting to tear me to pieces ! " 

M. Hue merely shrugged his shoulders, and 
made no reply. The guards looked at each other 
in astonishment, but no one ventured to reprove 
the little Prince for his prophetic dream. 



[64] 



Chapter III 

In the Temple 



^ — j pS\HE French Revolution pursued its terri- 
ble course, and war with Austria was finally- 
added to the internal disorders that dis- 
tracted the unhappy country. The people, 
kept in a constant tumult by the false reports and 
incessant assaults of the bloody Jacobins, hated 
the King more than ever. Not content with depriv- 
ing him of his liberty and his throne, and subject- 
ing him to the deepest humiliations, the brutal mob 
also demanded his life. 

The first step toward this dreadful d'enouement 
of the tragedy was the formal arrest of the royal 
family and their imprisonment in the Temple.^ On 
the thirteenth of August, 1792, they were taken to 
this prison, the gates of which closed behind the 



1 The Temple was a fortified structure of the Knights Templars, built in 1128. 
After the order was abolished in 131a, it was used for various purposes. The 
chapel remained until 1650, and the square tower, where the royal family were 
imprisoned, was destroyed in 18 10. 

5 [65] 



#THE LITTLE DAUPHIN * 

King, never to open for him again till he went forth 
to lay his head under the guillotine. 

The Temple was originally the residence of the 
Grand Priors of the Knights Templars, and in the 
thirteenth century occupied an extensive area, ac- 
quired by the purchase of surrounding lands. In 
the year 1792, however, little remained of it but 
the so-called Tower of the Temple, a dark square 
structure whose massive, frowning walls were flanked 
by turrets at each corner. The Tower had four 
stories. On the ground floor there was but one 
large room, and a kitchen which was unused. The 
first story consisted of an antechamber and a 
dining-room, which communicated with a small 
closet in one of the turrets. The second floor also 
contained an anteroom and two apartments, one 
of which the Queen and her daughter used as a 
bedchamber, others being occupied by the Dauphin, 
Madame Elisabeth, and Madame de Tourzel. The 
third floor was similar to the second, and here at 
first the King was lodged with his attendants, M. 
Hue and M. Chamilly. 

A few faithful and devoted friends had chosen to 
share the royal family's imprisonment, but this con- 
solation was not long permitted them. On the nine- 
[66] 



IN THE TEMPLE 



teenth of August, two officers made their appearance 
with an order from the Commune to remove all 
persons not belonging to the Capet family. In 
vain the Queen opposed the departure of the 
Princess de Lamballe/ on the ground that she 
was a relative. Their parting was most affecting; 
both the royal children mingled their tears with 
those of their elders, until the Princess and Madame 
de Tourzel were forcibly separated from them and 
carried away. Not a single attendant was left to 
the unfortunate prisoners, except M. Hue, who, 
much to his surprise, was permitted to remain. 

Their life in the Tower of the Temple was very 
sad and monotonous. The King arose every morn- 
ing between six and seven, and employed himself 
with his devotions in his little oratory in the turret 



1 The Princess de Lamballe was the daughter of the Prince de Carignan of the 
house of Savoy-Carignan, and an intimate friend of Marie Antoinette, and shared 
the latter's imprisonment in the Temple. She married the Prince de Lamballe, a 
great-grandson of Louis XIV and Madame de Montespan. She was put to death 
in 1792, because she refused to take the oath against the monarchy. Carlyle, in 
his " French Revolution," says of her murder : " The brave are not spared, nor 
the beautiful, nor the weak. Princess de Lamballe has lain down on bed. 
< Madame, you are to be removed to the Abbaye ' (the military prison at St. Ger- 
main-des-Pres). ' I do not wish to remove ; I am well enough here.' There is 
a need-be for removing. She will arrange her dress a little, then. Rude voices 
answer : * You have not far to go ! ' " The sad story of her fate is told in the 
last outcry from the mob. Although innocent of any offence, unless sympathy with 
the royal family or friendship with Marie Antoinette were an offence, she was exe- 
cuted. She went calmly to the guillotine and bravely gave up her life. 

[67] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

until nine o^clock, while M. Hue set the room in 
order, laid the table for breakfast, and then went 
down to the Queen. Marie Antoinette was up 
even before the King, dressed herself and her son, 
and heard him say his prayers. She kept her door 
closed, however, until M. Hue appeared, in order to 
prevent the officers, sent by the Commune to remain 
in her room during the day, from entering any 
earlier. At nine she went with her children and 
Madame Elisabeth to breakfast with the King, 
and M. Hue took this opportunity to clean their 
rooms and light the fires. At ten the whole family 
returned to the Queen's room, where they remained 
for the rest of the day. The King devoted himself 
to his son*s instruction, and the Queen heard the 
Princess recite her lessons, while Madame Elisabeth 
taught them ciphering and drawing. 

At one o'clock, when the weather was fine and 
Santerre, the commander of the guards, was present, 
the whole family walked in the little garden of the 
Temple, and the Dauphin amused himself with 
childish sports and games. At two they had din- 
ner, after which came an hour of recreation, when 
the children's amusements and laughter somewhat 
enlivened the customary gloom. About four the 
[68] 



IN THE TEMPLE 



King would often take a short nap in his arm-chair, 
while the Princesses sat by with a book or some 
needlework, and the little Prince studied his lessons 
or applied himself to his drawing and copy-book. 
M. Hue superintended his work, and after it was 
finished took him into the other room, where they 
played ball or shuttlecock together. 

At seven the family gathered around the table, 
and read aloud from some religious or historical 
work that would interest and instruct the children. 
At eight M. Hue gave the Dauphin his supper in 
Madame Elisabeth's room ; his parents were usu- 
ally present, and the King would often give him 
little easy riddles to guess, the solution of which 
occupied and diverted the child. After supper he 
was undressed and said his evening prayer, which 
usually was as follows : 

" Almighty God, who hast created and redeemed 
me, to Thee I pray. Preserve the life of the King, 
my father, and watch over the days of my family 
also. Protect us from our enemies ! Grant to 
Madame de Tourzel strength to bear the sorrows 
she is enduring on our behalf." 

After his prayer the Queen put him to bed, and 
she and Madame Elisabeth remained with him in 

[69] 



* THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

turn. As soon as the family supper was over, the 
King came to say good-night to his son. After a 
few moments' talk, he pressed the hand of his wife 
and sister, received the caresses of his children, and 
returned to his own room, retiring at once to his 
oratory, where he remained till midnight. 

The Princesses sat together some time later, often 
making use of this quiet hour to mend the family 
clothing ; and the King rarely composed himself to 
sleep until after the guard was changed at midnight. 
This was the daily routine as long as the King 
remained a prisoner. The days passed in sadness 
and humiliation, and there was scarcely an hour in 
which they were not exposed to some fresh insult or 
indignity. 

At this time the little Dauphin was seven and a 
half years of age. Through all their troubles, he 
showed a courage and sweetness of disposition sel- 
dom found even in the happiest natures. Some- 
times the seriousness of his thoughts would betray 
itself by word or look ; but he never failed to 
respond to his parents* affected cheerfulness with 
all a child's unquestioning light-heartedness. Ap- 
parently he thought no more of past greatness ; he 
was glad to be alive, and the only thing that made 
[70] 



IN THE TEMPLE 



him unhappy was his mother's tears. He never 
spoke of his former amusements and pleasures, 
showed no regrets, and seemed to have forgotten 
all the joys of happier days. He applied himself 
diligently to his studies, and with the aid of a good 
memory he was far more advanced than most chil- 
dren of his age. Through all this time of sorrow 
and trouble, the poor little Prince had possessed one 
unfailing consolation — his parents' love and care. 
But alas ! the time was soon to come when he 
would be deprived of this, too, and lose, first, his 
father, then his mother. 

The hard school of adversity developed all the 
purity and nobility of the boy's nature, already so 
richly endowed with warm affections and tender 
sensibilities. Still a child in all his acts and feel- 
ings, he was old enough at the same time to be able 
to comprehend the misfortunes of the family, and 
seemed to feel that he owed his parents even more 
respect and attention than formerly, though his 
lively fancies often made him forget their cruel sit- 
uation. He realized that they were prisoners, and 
was discreet and prudent in his speech and behav- 
ior. Never a syllable escaped him that could have 
caused a painful memory or regret in his mother's 

[y] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

heart. How affectionate and yet how thoughtful and 
quick-witted he was, one or two incidents will show, 

A stone-mason was at work one day on the wall 
of the King's anteroom, making a place for heavier 
bolts to be put on the door. While the workman 
was eating his breakfast, the little Prince amused 
himself by playing with his tools. The King took 
the chisel and hammer from his son's hand to show 
him how to use them, and worked at the wall himself 
for a few moments. The mason, moved by a sud- 
den feeling of pity, said to him : 

" After you have gone away from here, you can 
say you have worked on your own prison ! " 

" Alas ! " answered the King, " when and how 
shall I get away from here ? " 

Scarcely had he spoken the words, when the little 
Dauphin threw himself into his father's arms and 
burst into tears. The King dropped the hammer 
and chisel : he, too, was much affected, and paced up 
and down the room for some moments, struggling 
with his emotions. 

On another occasion the Prince had not shown a 
coarse fellow named Mercereau all the respect to 
which he considered himself entitled, whereupon he 
addressed the child roughly with : 
[7^] 



IN THE TEMPLE 



" Hey, boy ! don't you know that liberty has 
made us all equal ? " 

^"^ Equal, as much as you please," answered the 
Dauphin with a glance at his father, "but you will 
find it hard to make us believe that liberty has made 
us free ! " 

And now the time was approaching which was to 
separate the King from his loved ones forever. 
After so many crimes committed by the French 
people in the first intoxication and frenzy of their 
power, there remained only the King's death to be 
accompUshed. Louis the Sixteenth, the mildest and 
most just of kings, who had committed no crime but 
that of loving his people too well, was summoned 
before the blood-thirsty Convention which had 
boldly set itself up to judge him. For several days 
previously the treatment of the royal prisoners had 
been even harsher than before. They were deprived 
of every means of employment; even the ladies' 
needles were taken away from them, so that they 
could no longer find distraction in their feminine 
occupations, and to Louis these added brutalities 
indicated but too plainly the issue of his trial. In- 
deed, he was quite prepared for the worst; but what 
troubled him most was the separation from his 

[73] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

family. During the session of the Convention he had 
not been permitted to see them, and it was only with 
the greatest difficulty and by the most ingenious ex- 
pedients that he was able to obtain news of them or 
communicate with them. 

At last the death sentence was pronounced, to be 
executed on the following morning, and the King was 
granted a final interview with his family. At half- 
past eight in the evening his door was opened. The 
Queen came first, leading the little Dauphin by the 
hand ; then her daughter, Marie Therese, and 
Madame Elisabeth. They threw themselves into 
the arms of the King, and for some moments a sor- 
rowful silence prevailed, broken only by sobs. The 
Queen made a motion to her husband to take them 
into his bedchamber. 

" Not there," said the King, " we will go into the 
dining-room ; that is the only place where I can see 
you. 

They stepped into the adjoining room, which was 
divided from the antechamber by a glass partition, 
and the guards closed the door. The King sat down 
with his wife and sister on either side ; the Princess 
knelt before him, and the Dauphin remained stand- 
ing between his father's knees. They all leaned 
[74] 



^IN THE TEMPLES 

towards him and frequently embraced him, while the 
King told them about his trial, and tried to excuse 
those who had condemned him. Fie then gave 
some religious admonitions to his children; charged 
them to forgive those who were the cause of his 
death, and bestowed his blessing upon them. The 
Queen expressed her earnest desire that they might 
all spend the night together, but he refused, saying 
that he much needed to rest and compose his 
thoughts. This melancholy scene lasted nearly 
two hours. As the time drew near when it must 
end, the King turned to his children again, and 
made them give him a solemn promise never to be 
revenged on his enemies. Then, taking the Dau- 
phin on his knee, he impressed upon him the 
fulfilment of his last wishes, and concluded with 
these words: 

"My son, you have heard all that I have said, 
but since an oath is more sacred than words, swear 
with uplifted hand that you will obey the last wishes 
of your father." 

The little Prince obeyed and took the oath with 
streaming eyes. The others, too, wept bitterly, for 
the touching nobility of the King only intensified 
their grief. And now for more than a quarter of 



#THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

an hour not a word was spoken; only heart- 
rending sounds of anguish filled the room, while 
the whole family mingled their tears until ex- 
hausted by sorrow. At length Louis rose, and the 
others followed his example. A faithful servant, 
named Clery, who had managed to gain admittance 
to the prison so as to be near the King, opened 
the door. Louis supported his wife and held their 
son's hand, while the Princess clasped her arms 
tightly about her father and Madame Elisabeth 
clung to his arm. They took several steps toward 
the outer door, and again heart-breaking sobs burst 
forth. 

" Be calm ! " said the King; " I will see you again 
in the morning at eight o'clock." 

" You promise ? " they all cried. 

" Yes, I promise ! " 

" But why not at seven ? " asked the Queen. 

"Well, at seven, then," replied the King. 
« Adieu ! " 

This farewell was spoken in such a touching tone 
that their grief became once more uncontrollable. 
The Princess sank senseless at her father's feet, and 
Clery assisted Madame Elisabeth to support her. 
The King, to put an end to this distressing scene, 

[76] 




r 



HE King' s last fare'ivell 



IN THE TEMPLE 



clasped them all once more in his arms most tenderly, 
and tore himself from their embraces. 

"Farewell! Farewell!'* he said again with a 
breaking heart, as he returned to his room. 

The good King, the loving father, had seen his 
dear ones for the last time on earth. To save them 
from another such trial, he nobly resolved to deprive 
himself of the sad consolation of pressing them once 
more to his heart, and went to his execution without 
a last farewell. His last words, spoken from the 
scaffold to the people, were : 

" I die innocent of all the crimes of which I am 
accused. I forgive all those who are the cause of 
my death, and pray God that the blood you are 
about to shed may assure the happiness of France. 
And you, unhappy people . . . . " 

The rest was drowned in the roll of drums. His 
noble head fell — the head of a martyr, the head of 
one of the best and most merciful kings who ever 
ruled in France.^ 



1 History relates that the King mounted the scaffold without hesitation and 
without fear, but when the executioners approached to bind him he resisted them, 
deeming it an affront to his dignity and a reflection upon his courage. The Abbe 
who had accompanied him, as a spiritual consoler, reminded him that the Saviour 
had submitted to be bound, whereupon Louis, who was of a very pious nature, at 
once consented, though still protesting against the indignity of the act. Before the 
fatal moment, he advanced to the edge of the scaffold and said to the people : 

[77] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

" Frenchmen, I die innocent ; it is from the scaffold and near appearing before 
God that I tell you so. I pardon my enemies. I desire that France — " 
The sentence was left unfinished, for at that instant the signal was given the exe- 
cutioner. The Abbe leaning towards the King said : ** Son of Saint Louis, 
ascend to Heaven." Undoubtedly the reason for the interruption of the King's 
last words was the fear of popular sympathy, for notwithstanding the revolutionary 
frenzy he was personally liked by many. 



[78] 



Chapter IV 
Separation from his Mother 



/\ FTER the sad parting, the Queen had 
AX scarcely strength enough left to undress 
/h^\ her children, and as soon as they were 
^ ^ asleep she flung herself, dressed, upon her 
bed, where she passed the night shivering with cold 
and trembling with apprehension. The Princess 
and Madame Elisabeth slept in the same room on 
a mattress. 

The next morning the royal family arose before 
daybreak, waiting for a last sight of him whom, 
alas ! they were never to see again. In all quarters 
of Paris the drums were beating, and the noise pene- 
trated even into the Tower. At a quarter-past six 
the door opened, and some one came in to get a 
book, which was wanted for the mass about to be 
read to the King. The anxious women regarded 
this -trifling occurrence as a hopeful sign, and ex- 
pected a speedy summons to the promised interview. 
But they were soon undeceived. Each moment 

[79] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

seemed an hour, and still the time slipped by with- 
out bringing the fulfilment of their last sorrowful 
hope. 

Suddenly a louder roll of drums announced the 
moment of the King's departure. No words can 
describe the scene that followed. The heart-broken 
women, with tears and sobs, made fruitless attempts 
to excite the compassion of their pitiless jailers. 
The little Prince sprang from his mother's arms, 
and, beside himself with grief and terror, ran from 
one to another of the guards, clasping their knees, 
pressing their hands, and crying wildly : 

" Let me go, messieurs ! Let me go ! " 

" Where do you wish to go ? " they asked him. 

"To my father! I will speak to the people — 
I will beg them not to kill my papa I In the name 
of God, messieurs, let me go ! " 

The guards were deaf to his childish appeals ; 
fear for their own heads compelled them to be, but 
history does not tell us that they were inhuman 
enough to jeer at the child or make sport of his 
innocent prayer for his father's life. Even harder 
hearts must have been touched by the sight of such 
sorrow. 

About ten o'clock the Queen wished the children 
[80] 



# SEP ARATION FROM MOTHER # 

to have some breakfast ; but they could not eat, and 
the food was sent away untouched. A moment 
later cries and yells were heard, mingled with the 
discharge of firearms. Madame Elisabeth raised 
her eyes to heaven, and, carried away by the bitter- 
ness of her grief, exclaimed : 

"Oh, the monsters ! They are glad ! . . ." 

At these words the Princess Marie Therese 
uttered a piercing scream ; the little Dauphin burst 
into tears ; while the Queen, with drooping head 
and staring eyes, seemed sunk in a stupor almost 
like death. The shouts of a crier in the street soon 
informed them yet more plainly that all was over. 

For the rest of the day, the poor little Prince 
hardly stirred from his mother*s side. He kissed 
her hands, often wet with his tears, and over- 
whelmed her with sweet childish caresses, which he 
seemed to feel would comfort her more than words. 

" Alas ! the tears of an innocent child, they may 
never cease to flow ! " said the Queen, bitterly. 
" Death is harder for those who survive than for 
the ones who are gone ! '* 

During the afternoon she asked permission to see 
Clery, who had remained with his royal master in 
the Tower till the last moment. She felt that she 
6 [81] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN -I* 

must hear the last words and farewells of her mar- 
tyred husband and treasure them as a precious 
legacy, and for more than an hour the faithful valet 
was with her, both absorbed in sorrowful discourse. 

The long day passed in tears and wretchedness, 
and night brought no respite. The prisoners had 
been placed in charge of two jailers, a married 
couple named Tison, coarse creatures, from whose 
intrusions they were never free. Thus the inflexi- 
ble hate of an infuriated populace pursued them 
even in the sanctity of their grief. 

It was two o'clock at night, and more than an 
hour since the tearfully ended prayers had an- 
nounced the time for rest ; but rest was still far from 
the three unhappy women. In obedience to the 
Queen's wishes, the Princess Marie Therese had in- 
deed gone to bed, but she could not close her eyes. 
Her royal mother and her aunt, who were sitting near 
the bed of the Dauphin, talked of their sorrow and 
wept together in uncontrollable anguish. The 
sleeping child smiled, and there was such an ex- 
pression of angelic sweetness and purity on his in- 
nocent face that the Queen could not refrain from 
saying sadly : 

"He is now just as old as his brother was when 
[82] 



* SEPARATION FROM MOTHER * 

he died at Meudon. Happy are those of our 
family who have been the first to go ; at least they 
have not lived to see the downfall of our house !" 

Madame Tison, who had been listening at the 
door, heard these words, or at least the sound of 
the Queen*s voice. Devoid of respect for a sorrow 
that must find relief in words or become unbearable, 
the heartless woman knocked on the door and 
harshly demanded the cause of this nocturnal con- 
versation. As if this were not enough, her husband 
and some municipal guards even opened the door 
and attempted to force their way into the room, 
when Madame Elisabeth, turning her pale face 
toward them, said with quiet dignity: 

" I pray you, allow us at least to weep in peace 1 " 

These simple words, spoken in such a tone, dis- 
armed even these wretches. They drew back in 
confusion, and did not venture again to intrude on 
the sanctity of so profound a grief. The next 
morning the Queen took her son in her arms and 
said to him : 

" My child, we must put our trust in the dear 
God ! " 

" Oh, yes, mamma," answered the little Prince, 
" I do trust the dear God, but whenever I fold my 

[83] 



#THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

hands and try to pray, the image of my father comes 
before my eyes." 

Sadly and wearily the days passed. Weakened 
by sorrow and exhausted by sleepless nights, the 
Queen almost succumbed to her troubles, and 
seemed to be indifferent whether she lived or died. 
Sometimes her companions would find her eyes 
fixed on them with such an expression of profound 
pity, it almost made them shudder. A deathly 
stillness prevailed; they all seemed to be holding 
their breaths, save when their grief found vent in 
half-smothered sobs or paroxysms of tears. It was 
almost a boon to the wretched women when the 
Princess Marie Therese really fell ill. In the duties 
of a mother, Marie Antoinette found some mitiga- 
tion of her grief for the loss of her husband. She 
spent all her time at her daughter's bedside, and the 
care and anxiety afforded her a wholesome distrac- 
tion and roused her benumbed faculties. The Prin- 
cess soon recovered from her illness, and from that 
time the Queen devoted herself wholly to her 
children. 

The little Dauphin sang very sweetly, and his 
mother found much pleasure in teaching him little 
songs, but especially in having him continue the 
[84] 



* SEPARATION FROM MOTHER * 

studies he had begun. Thus absorbed, she even 
thanked Heaven for the peace granted her by her 
enemies, which enabled her to perform these mater- 
nal tasks. Madame Elisabeth was her devoted as- 
sistant, and their love for the children afforded them 
some relief from sorrows which were constantly 
being sharpened by fresh trials. But even this last 
faint semblance of happiness was at last taken from 
them. 

Some faithful friends of the Queen and the royal 
house, brave, noble hearts who gladly risked their 
lives in the hope of rescuing the prisoners from the 
shameful brutalities of their jailers, had devised a 
plan for their escape. Owing to an unlucky com- 
bination of circumstances, the attempt failed, and 
the tyrants of the Convention, who then held 
despotic sway over wretched France, issued the fol- 
lowing decree : 

" The Committee of Public Safety orders that the 
son of Capet shall be separated from his mother 
and delivered into the hands of a governor, the 
choice of whom shall rest with the General Council 
of the Commune." 

On the third of July, 1793, this cruel and in- 
famous order was put into execution. 

[85] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

It was almost ten o'clock on that evening ; the 
little Prince was in bed and sleeping peacefully and 
soundly, with a smile on his pale but still lovely face. 
The bed had no curtains, but his mother had in- 
geniously arranged a shawl to keep the light from 
falling on his closed eyelids and disturbing his 
rest. 

The Queen, Madame EHsabeth, and the Princess 
Marie Therese were sitting up somewhat later than 
usual, the elder ladies busy with some mending and 
the Princess reading aloud to them. She had 
finished several chapters from some historical work, 
and now had a book of devotions called " Passion 
Week," which Madame Elisabeth had succeeded in 
obtaining only a short time before. Whenever the 
Princess paused to turn a page, or at the end of a 
chapter in the history or of a psalm in the book of 
prayers, the Queen would raise her head, let her 
work fall in her lap, and gaze lovingly at the sleep- 
ing boy or listen to his quiet breathing. Suddenly 
the sound of heavy footsteps was heard on the 
stairs. The bolts were drawn with a rattle, the 
door opened, and six municipal guards entered. 

"We come,*' said one of them roughly to the 
terrified Princesses, " to inform you that the Com- 
[86] 



* SEPARATION FROM MOTHER * 

mittee of Public Safety has ordered the son of 
Capet to be separated from his mother and his 
family." 

The Queen started to her feet, struck to the 
heart by the suddenness of this blow. 

"Take my child away from me?" she cried, 
white with terror, — "no — no — it cannot be 
possible ! " 

Marie Therese stood beside her mother trem- 
bling, while Madame Elisabeth, with both hands on 
the prayer-book, listened and looked on, paralyzed 
with terror and unable to stir. 

" Messieurs," continued the Queen in a tremu- 
lous voice, and struggling to control the ague fit 
that shook her from head to foot, " it is impossi- 
ble ; the Council cannot think of such a thing as 
to separate me from my son ! He is so young, he 
is so delicate — my care is so necessary to him ! 
No — no — it cannot be ! " 

" It is the decree of the Committee," replied the 
officer harshly, unmoved by the deadly pallor of 
the Queen ; " the Convention has decided on the 
measure, and we are sent to carry it into immediate 
execution." 

" Oh, I can never submit to it ! " cried the un- 

[87] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

happy mother. " In the name of Heaven, I be- 
seech you, do not demand this cruel sacrifice of 
me ! " 

Both her companions joined their entreaties to 
hers. All three had instinctively placed themselves 
before the child's bed, as if to defend it against the 
approach of the officers ; they wept, they prayed, 
they exhausted themselves in the humblest and 
most touching supplications. Such distress might 
have softened the hardest heart ; but to these pitiless 
tools of the villanous Convention, they appealed 
in vain. 

" What is the use of all this outburst ? '* they 
demanded at length. "Your child is not going to 
be killed. You had better give him to us without 
any more trouble, or we shall find other means of 
getting him." 

In fact, they began to use force against the des- 
perate mother. In the struggle, the improvised 
bed-curtain was torn down and fell on the head of 
the sleeping Prince. He awoke, saw at a glance 
what was happening, and flung himself into his 
mother's arms. 

" Mamma, dear mamma ! " he cried, shaking with 
fright, " do not leave me ! " 
[88] 



4* SEPARATION FROM MOTHER* 

The Queen clasped him close to her breast, as if 
to protect him, and clung with all her strength to 
the bedposts. 

" Pah ! We do not fight with women," said one 
of the deputies who had not spoken before. " Citi- 
zens, let us call up the guard ! " 

" Do not do that ! " said Madame Elisabeth, 
" in the name of Heaven, do not do that ! We 
must submit to forcible demands, but grant us at 
least time to prepare ourselves. This poor child 
needs his sleep, and he will not be able to sleep any- 
where but here. Let him at least spend the night 
in this room, and he shall be delivered into your 
hands early in the morning." 

To this touching appeal there was no reply. 

" Promise me, at least," said the Queen in a hol- 
low voice, " that he shall remain within the walls of 
this Tower, and that I shall be permitted to see him 
every day, if only at meal times." 

" We are not obliged to account to you for what 
we do," snarled one of the rough fellows, ferociously ; 
" neither is it for you to question the acts of the 
country. Just because your child is taken from you, 
why should you act like a fool ? Are not our sons 
marching toward the frontier every day, to have 

[89] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN4- 

their heads shot off by the enemy you enticed 
there ? " 

"Oh, I did not entice them there," replied the 
Queen ; " and you see that my son is much too 
young to serve his country yet. Some day, God 
willing, I hope he will be proud to devote his life 
to France.'* 

The threatening manner of the officers showed 
the poor mother plainly enough that all her prayers 
were useless, and she must yield to her cruel fate. 
With trembling hands she dressed the little Prince, 
and, although both Princesses assisted her, it took 
her longer than ever before. Every garment, before 
it was put on the child, was turned in and out, 
passed from hand to hand, and wet with bitter tears. 
In every possible way they strove to defer the 
dreadful moment of parting, but the officers soon 
began to lose patience. 

" Make haste ! " they cried. " We can wait no 
longer ! " 

With a breaking heart, the Queen submitted. 
Summoning all her fortitude, she seated herself on 
a chair, laid both her thin white hands on the 
shoulders of the unhappy child, and, forcing herself 
to be calm, said to him in a solemn, earnest voice : 
[90] 



* SEPARATION FROM MOTHER * 

" My child, we must part. Remember your oath 
when I am no longer with you to remind you of it. 
Never forget the dear God who has sent you this 
trial, nor the dear mother who loves you. Be pru- 
dent, brave, and patient, and your father will look 
down from Heaven and bless you." 

So speaking, she pressed a last kiss on his fore- 
head, clasped him once more to her tortured heart, 
and gave him to his jailers. The poor child sprang 
away from them, rushed to his mother again, and 
clung desperately to her dress, clasping her knees. 
She tried to soothe his distress. 

" You must obey, my child, you must ! " she 
said. 

" Yes, and I hope you have no more instructions 
to give him," added one of the deputies. " You 
have abused our patience enough already." 

" As it is, you might have saved yourself the 
trouble of giving him any," said another, dragging 
the Prince forcibly out of the room. 

A third, somewhat more humane than the others, 
added, " You need not have any further anxiety ; 
the great and generous country will care for him." 

Heaven was witness what tears of anguish, what 
cries of despair, followed this distressing scene. In 

[91] 



4-THE LITTLE DAUPHIN# 

the extremity of her sufferings, the unfortunate 
mother writhed upon the bed where her son had 
just been sleeping. She had succeeded in maintain- 
ing her courage and a feigned composure in the 
presence of the merciless wretches who had robbed 
her of her child, but this unnatural strength, this 
superhuman exertion, had exhausted all the powers 
of her being and almost deprived her of reason. 
Never was there a greater despair than that of this 
most unhappy Queen and her companions. The 
three prisoners gazed at one another in speechless 
agony, and could find no words of consolation. The 
only comfort of their wretched life was gone. The 
little Dauphin had been the one ray of sunlight in 
the darkness of their imprisonment, and that now 
had been extinguished. What more could follow ? 
Alas ! even worse was yet to come, for the resources 
of inhumanity are boundless ! 



[92] 



Chapter V 
The Cobbler Simon 




UARDED by six deputies and a turn- 
key, the young Prince, or rather King, 
since he was the only and lawful heir to 
the throne, was taken to that part of the 
Tower formerly occupied by his father. There a 
guardian was awaiting him, a cruel, tyrannical mas- 
ter, the cobbler Simon. The room was poorly 
lighted. After conversing with this man for some 
time in an undertone, the deputies gave him some 
final instructions and withdrew, and the child found 
himself alone with Simon, whose slouching gait, 
rough and violent language, and arrogant manner, 
easily proclaimed him the future master of the 
unfortunate Prince. 

The cobbler Simon was fifty-seven years old, of 
more than medium height, powerfully built, with a 
swarthy skin and a shock of stiff black hair falling 
over his eyebrows. His features were heavy, and 
he wore large mustaches. His wife was about the 

[93] 



* THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

same age, but very short and stout ; she was dark 
and ill-favored, like her husband, and usually wore 
a cap with red ribbons, and a blue apron. This 
worthy pair were given absolute control over the 
Dauphin, the descendant of so many kings, torn 
from his royal mother's arms to be delivered into 
such hands as these ! The very refinement of 
cruelty could scarcely have conceived a greater 
infamy 1 The poor child, confused and bewildered 
by having been awakened so suddenly from a sound 
sleep, remained for hours sitting on a stool in the 
farthest corner of the room and weeping pitifully. 
Simon plied him with rude questions, plentifully 
sprinkled with curses and blasphemies, as he smoked 
his pipe, but only succeeded in extracting short 
answers from his victim. 

For the first two or three days the little Prince 
was in such despair at being parted from his mother 
that he could swallow nothing but a few mouthfuls 
of broth. Soon, however, he began to rebel in- 
wardly ; gleams of indignation shone through his 
tears, and his anger broke forth at last in passionate 
words : 

" I want to know," he cried imperiously to the 
municipal officers who were visiting Simon, " what 
[94] 



* THE COBBLER SIMON* 

law gives you the right to take me from my mother 
and keep me shut up here ? Show me this law ! I 
will see it ! " 

The officers were amazed at this child of nine 
years, who dared to question their power and address 
them in such a kingly tone. But their v/orthy 
comrade came to their aid. He harshly ordered 
his charge to be silent, saying : 

" Hold your tongue, Capet ! you are only a 
chatterer." 

The little prisoner's sad and longing gaze was 
continually fixed upon the door, although he knew 
he could never pass its threshold without permission 
from his jailers. He often wept, but seemed at last 
to resign himself to his fate, and mutely obeyed the 
commands of his tormentors. He would not speak, 
however. 

" Oho, little Capet ! " said the cobbler to him 
one day ; " so you are dumb ! Well, I am going 
to teach you to talk, to sing the ^ Carmagnole,' ^ and 
shout ' Vive la Republique 1 ' Oh, yes, you are 
dumb, are you ? " 

1 The Carmagnole was originally a Proven9al dance tune, which was frequently 
adapted to songs of various import. During the Revolution, so-called patriotic 
words were set to it, and it was sung, like the " Marseillaise, '* to inspire popular 
wrath against royalty. 

[95] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

" If I said all I thought," returned the poor child, 
with a touch of his old spirit, " you would call me 
mad. I am silent because I am afraid of saying 
too much." 

" Ho ! so Monsieur Capet has much to say ! " 
shouted the cobbler with a malicious laugh. "That 
sounds very aristocratic, but it won't do with me, do 
you hear ? You are still young, and some allowance 
should be made for you on that account ; but I am 
your master, and cannot allow such ignorance. I 
must teach you to understand progress and the new 
ideas. So, look here ! I am going to give you a 
jews-harp. Your she-wolf of a mother and your 
dog of an aunt play the piano, you must learn the 
jews-harp." 

A gleam of anger flashed in the boy's beautiful 
blue eyes, and he refused to take the jews-harp, 
declaring that he never would play on it. 

" Never ? " cried the cobbler, furiously. " Never ? 
Play on it this moment ! " 

The child persisted in his determination, and the 
cobbler- — the pen almost refuses to write it — the 
cobbler seized the defenceless child and beat him 
most cruelly, but without being able to conquer his 
will. 
[96] 



*THE COBBLER SIMON* 

" You can punish me if I do wrong," cried the 
poor little Prince, ^' but you must not strike me ; do 
you understand ? For you are stronger than I 
am." 

" I am here to command you, you beast ! " roared 
the cobbler. "I can do what I like! Long live 
Liberty and Equality ! " 

On Sunday, the 17th of July, 1793, a report 
spread through Paris that the Dauphin had been 
carried off. In order to refute this rumor, which 
had already begun to create disturbances among the 
lower classes, a deputation was sent to the Temple 
by the Committee of Public Safety, with orders that 
the son of the tyrant should be brought down into 
the garden where he might be seen. The cobbler 
obeyed, and unceremoniously demanded of the dep- 
uties what the real intentions of the Committee 
were in regard to little Capet. 

" What have they decided to do with the young 
wolf? He has been taught to be insolent, and I 
will see that he is tamed. If he rebels, so much the 
worse for him, I warrant you ! But what is to be 
done with him in the end ? Send him out of the 
country ? No ! Kill him ? No ! Poison him ? 
No ! Well, what then ? " 

7 [97] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

" We must get rid of him ! " was the significant 
reply. 

Such, indeed, was the real purpose of the inhuman 
leaders of the Revolution. They did not want to 
put the unfortunate Prince to death, they only wished 
to get rid of him ; that is to say, to torture him to 
death by slow degrees, without anyone being able 
to say that he had been poisoned, strangled, hanged, 
or beheaded 1 

As soon as the Dauphin found himself in the 
garden, he began to call to his mother as loudly as 
he could. Some of the guards tried to quiet him ; 
but he answered indignantly, pointing to Simon and 
the deputies : 

"They will not, they cannot, show me the 
law that orders me to be separated from my 
mother." 

Astonished at his firmness and moved by his 
childish affection, one of the guards asked the cob- 
bler whether no one could help the little fellow ; but 
Simon replied sharply : 

" The young wolf does not submit to the muzzle 

easily ; he might know the law as well as you do, 

but he is always asking for the reasons of things — 

as if people were obliged to give him reasons ! Now, 

[98] 



4^ THE COBBLER S I M O N * 

Capet, keep still, or I will show the citizens how I 
beat you when you deserve it ! " 

The poor little prisoner turned to the deputies 
as if to appeal to their compassion, but they coldly 
turned their backs on him. He was to be got rid of I 
How could this be possible if he were left to the 
tender care of his mother? 

Henceforth Simon's cruelties toward his victim 
were redoubled. He understood at last what was 
expected of him, and wished to do credit to his task. 
The youth, the innocence, the indescribable charm 
of the little Prince, did not in the least diminish the 
ferocity of his jailer. On the contrary, it seemed 
as though the child's delicate face, his clear eyes, his 
slender little hands, the nobility of his demeanor, 
only served to inflame the brutal passions of Simon 
and his wife. They felt the Prince's refinement and 
delicacy, in contrast with their own uncouthness, as 
a personal affront ; and their jealous rage, their im- 
placable hatred, made them take a savage pleasure 
in attempting to degrade their charge to their own 
level and extinguishing in this scion of a royal house 
all recollection of his illustrious family and of his 
early education. 

Still another circumstance added to Simon's abuse 

[99] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

of the Prince. Marat,-^ that bloody and ferocious 
hyena of the Revolution, died at last by the knife 
of Charlotte Corday. Marat had been a patron of 
Simon's, and was largely responsible for the appoint- 
ment of the cobbler as the Dauphin's keeper — a po- 
sition which carried with it a considerable income — 
and his sudden death threw Simon into a sort of 
frenzy. When he heard the news, he deserted his 
prisoner for the first time, and returned in a state of 
excitement and irritation that relieved itself in abuse 
and blasphemy. He drank quantities of wine and 
brandy, and then, inflamed with the liquor, his brain 
on fire, he dragged his wife and the Prince up to 
the platform of the Tower, where he smoked his 
pipe and tried to catch an echo of the far-away 
lamentations for his friend Marat. 

" Do you hear that noise down there, Capet ? " 
he shouted to the Prince. " It is the voice of the 
people, lamenting the loss of their friend. You 
wear black clothes for your father ; I was going 

1 Jean Paul Marat, the French revolutionist, was born in Switzerland in 1744. 
He was both physician and scientist in his earlier years, but at the outbreak of the 
Revolution took a prominent part in the agitation for a republic, and incited the 
people to violence. In 1792 he was elected to the National Convention, and in 
1793 was tried before the Revolutionary Tribunal as an ultra-revolutionist, but was 
acquitted. July 13, 1793, he was assassinated by Charlotte Corday, who was 
guillotined for the murder four days later. 
[100] 



# TH E COBBLER SIMONS 

to make you take them ofF to-morrow, but now you 
shall wear them still longer. Capet shall put on 
mourning for Marat ! But, accursed one, you do 
not seem much grieved about it ! Perhaps you are 
glad that he is dead ? *' 

With these words, furious with rage, he shook 
the boy, threatened him with his fist, and pushed 
him violently away. 

" I do not know the man who is dead," returned 
the child, " and you should not say that I am 
glad. We. never wish for the death of anyone." 

"Ah, weF 'We wish?' WeV roared the 
cobbler. " Are you presuming to say we^ like 
those tyrants, your forefathers?" 

" Oh, no," answered the Prince, " I say we^ in 
the plural, meaning myself and my family." 

Somewhat appeased by this apology, the cobbler 
strode up and down, puffing great clouds of smoke 
from his mouth and laughing to himself as he 
repeated : " Capet shall put on mourning for 
Marat ! " 

Marat was buried on the following morning, and 
Simon's resentment at not being able to attend the 
funeral ceremonies made him furious. All day 
long he paced the floor of his room like a caged 

[lOl] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

tiger, sparing the innocent Prince neither blows nor 
curses. 

Some days later, news came of a crushing defeat of 
the Republican army at Saumur,^ and again the poor 
child had to suffer from his master's rage and spite. 

" It is your friends who are doing this ! " shouted 
Simon to him. 

In vain the little Prince cried, " Indeed it is not 
my fault ! " The infamous wretch furiously rushed 
at him, and shook him with the ferocity of a mad- 
dened beast. The child bore it all in silence ; 
great tears rolled down his cheeks, but he allowed 
no cry of pain to escape him, for fear his mother 
might hear it and be distressed about him. This 
fear gave him strength, and enabled him to bear 
his sufferings with the courage of a hero. Joy 
had long since been banished from his heart, the 
roses of health from his cheeks, but they had 
not succeeded yet in extinguishing his love of truth 
and purity. 

In accordance with the orders he had received, 
Simon allowed his prisoner to go down into the 

1 Saumur is a town in the department of Maine-et-Loire, on the Loire River. 
It was here that the Vendeans, who were partisans of the royal rising against the 
Revolution and the Republic, won a victory over the Republican Army June 9, 
1793, and took the town. 
[102] 



*THE COBBLER SIMON* 

garden every day, and sometimes took him with 
him when he went up on the roof of the Tower to 
breathe the air and smoke his pipe undisturbed. 
The boy followed him with hanging head, like a 
whipped dog ; he never ventured to raise his eyes 
to his master's face, knowing he should meet only 
hatred and abuse. 

Naturally there was no further mention of any 
kind of instruction for the Prince. Simon made 
him listen to revolutionary or so-called patriotic 
songs, and filled his ears with the vilest oaths and 
blasphemies ; but he did not think it necessary to 
occupy young Capet's time otherwise. He forced 
the child to wait on him and perform the most 
menial duties ; he took away his suit of mourning, 
and gave him instead a coat of orange-colored cloth, 
with breeches of the same color, and a red cap, which 
was the notorious uniform of the Jacobins. 

" If I allow you to take off black for Marat," he 
said, " at least you shall wear his livery and honor 
his memory in that way ! " 

The Prince put on the clothes without protest, 
but nothing could induce him to wear the Jacobin 
cap ; and Simon was powerless, even by the cruellest 
treatment, to overcome his resistance. He had 

[103] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

become the slave of his jailers, he had submitted to 
a thousand insults and indignities, but he would not 
allow the badge of his father's murderers to be placed 
upon his head. Weary with his efforts, the cobbler 
finally desisted from the attempt, at the intercession 
of his wife. To tell the truth, this was not the first 
time this woman had taken the part of the unfortu- 
nate child, for she, indeed, had good reason to be 
satisfied with him. 

" He is an amiable being, and a nice child," she 
remarked one day to another woman. " He cleans 
and polishes my shoes, and makes the fire for me 
when I get up," for these were also his duties 
now. Alas ! what a change from the days when 
every morning he had brought his adored mother a 
nosegay from his garden, picked and arranged with 
his own hands ! Now, the drudge of a shoemaker's 
wife — poor, lovely, high-born little Prince! 

A systematic effort was made to debase the child 
in every way, morally and physically ; no pains were 
spared to vitiate his pure innocent mind and make 
him familiar with the most revolting infamies. 
Madame Simon cut off his beautiful hair for no 
other reason than because it had been his mother's 
delight. As it happened, some guards and deputies 
[104] 



#THE COBBLER SIMON* 

witnessed the act, and one of them, a good-natured 
fellow named Meunier, cried out : 

" Oh, what have you slashed off all his pretty 
hair for?" 

" What for ? " retorted Madame Simon. " Why, 
don't you see, citizen, we were playing the part of 
dethroned King, here! " And all, with the excep- 
tion of Meunier, burst into shouts of laughter over 
the shorn lamb, who bent his poor little disfigured 
head upon his breast in mute despair. Not con- 
tent with this outrage, that same evening the brutal 
wretches forced the child to drink large quantities 
of wine, which he detested ; and when they had suc- 
ceeded in making him drunk, so that he did not 
know what he was doing, Simon put the red cap on 
his head. 

"At last I see you a Jacobin ! " cried the villain, 
triumphantly, as the Revolutionary emblem nodded 
on the brow of the unhappy descendant of Louis 
the Fourteenth, the proudest King of Christendom ! 
They had broken the child's noble pride at last — 
one shudders to think by what terrible means ; 
and from this time a few blows or curses sufficed 
to make him put on the new head-covering. Thus 
far the wretched child's unhappy fate had remained 



#THE LITTLE DAUPHIN ^ 

unknown to his mother, although she had never 
ceased to implore the guards or deputies for news 
of him. They all assured her that she need not be 
uneasy about her son • — that he was in good hands 
and well cared for; but all these protestations failed 
to soothe her maternal anxiety and but too well- 
founded distrust. 

At last, on the thirteenth of July, through the 
assistance of Tison, who, at first a bitter enemy, 
had since changed and become friendly to her, she 
succeeded in obtaining a sight of her poor little son. 
But alas ! this happiness, so long yearned for, so 
besought from Heaven, was granted her only to 
her sorrow. The little Prince indeed passed before 
the eyes of his mother, who bent her anxious, 
searching gaze upon him. He had laid aside the 
mourning for his father ; the red cap was on his 
head, his brutal jailer beside him. Unluckily, 
moreover, just at that moment Simon fell into 
one of the outbursts of fury that usually vented 
themselves upon his wretched charge. The poor 
Queen, struck by this terrible sight as if by light- 
ning, grasped her sister-in-law for support, and both 
quickly drew the Princess Marie Therese away 
from their place of concealment (whither she had 
[io6] 



THE COBBLER SIMON* 



hastened for a giimpse of her brother), at the same 
time reassuring themselves by a glance that she had 
seen nothing and remained in blissful ignorance of 
the Dauphin^s fate. 

"It is useless to wait any longer/' said the Queen ; 
" he will not come now/* 

After a few moments, her tears began to flow ; 
she turned away to hide them, and came back again, 
hoping for another sight of her son. A little later 
she did see him again. He passed by in silence, 
with bowed head ; his tyrant was no longer cursing 
him. She heard no words, but this silence was 
almost as terrible to her as Simon's invectives. 
Mute and motionless, she remained as if rooted to 
the spot till Tison came for her. 

" Oh, God ! " she cried bitterly to him, " you 
have been deceiving me ! " 

« No, madame," he replied ; " I merely did not 
tell you everything, so you would not be troubled. 
But now that you know all, in the future I will 
conceal nothing from you that I may chance to 
discover." 

The knowledge of the pitiable condition of her 
son reduced the Queen to the apathy of despair, and 
she would sit for hours in silent misery. To know 

[107] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

that her child was suffering and not be able to tend 
or care for him, to know that he was unhappy and 
not be able to comfort him, to know that he was in 
danger and not be able to protect him — what tortures 
could compare with the martrydom of this poor 
mother ? It turned her beautiful dark hair as white 
as snow, and made her indifferent to her own fate. 
The Convention had issued a decree that the Queen 
should be removed from the Temple to the Con- 
ciergerie, and on the second of August, at two o'clock 
in the morning, the Princesses were roused from 
their sleep to hear this order. The Queen listened 
quietly and without a word as it was read to them, 
then rose immediately and made her preparations 
to follow the ofBcers, who first searched her 
roughly, and even took everything out of her pock- 
ets. Before she went, she embraced her daughter 
and sister-in-law, and exhorted them to be brave 
and steadfast. As she passed through the low 
doorway, she forgot to stoop, and struck her head a 
sharp blow against it. One of the men asked her 
if she was hurt, and she replied : 

" Nothing can hurt me now.*' 

But ah ! with what feelings must she have left 
that Tower ! With what lingering glances at the 
[io8] 



*THE COBBLER SIMON* 

door of the room where the Dauphin was confined ! 
She knew she was leaving never to return ; knew 
that never again should she clasp her child to her 
breast ; knew that he was in the clutches of a tiger. 
Poor ill-fated, unhappy Queen and mother! 

Meanwhile, Simon continued by every vile means 
in his power to maltreat the child committed to his 
guardianship. On the seventh of August, Madame 
Simon went to the theatre to see a low play per- 
formed, entitled " Brutus," and returned full of 
enthusiasm. She described the piece, the plot of 
which was directed against royalty, and Simon lis- 
tened eagerly and attentively. Suddenly he per- 
ceived that the little Prince had turned away his 
head, as if to avoid hearing it. 

" You accursed young wolf,'* he cried furiously, 
" so you do not want to listen to the citoyenne — 
to be improved and enlightened ! You would like 
to remain a blockhead and the son of a tyrant ! '* 

" Everyone has relatives that he should honor," 
replied the boy with angelic calmness and filial 
affection. 

This very calmness and composure only seemed 
to enrage Simon the more. He could not forgive 
the child for honoring his father and mother, and, 

[109] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

seizing him roughly, he threw him across the room 
and down to the floor, with a volley of oaths and 
abusive epithets. Nor was this the worst of which 
the monster was guilty. If a rising occurred any- 
where in France, against the Revolution and its 
crimes, he vented his rage and spite upon his victim. 
On the sixth of August, Montbrison rose in arms, 
with the cry, " God save King Louis the Seven- 
teenth ! " Three or four days later the news reached 
the Temple, and Simon immediately pounced upon 
the Prince. 

" Here, madame," said he, jeeririgly, " allow me 
to present to you the King of Montbrison, and" 
— he continued, taking off the boy's Jacobin cap — 
" I will anoint him at once and burn incense to 
him ! " Whereupon he rubbed the poor child's 
head and ears roughly with his hard hands, blew 
tobacco smoke from his pipe into his face, and 
finally flung him over to his wife, that she in her turn 
might do homage to " His Majesty." On the 
tenth of August, the Convention gave a fete for the 
people, and Simon awakened the Prince from his 
morning sleep and commanded him to shout, " Long 
live the Republic!" The child did not seem to 
understand at first ; he arose, and began to put on 

[MO] 



# THE COBBLER S I M O N # 

his clothes in silence, when Simon, who was standing 
before him with folded arms, repeated imperiously : 

" Make haste, Capet ! This is a great day ; you 
must shout ' Vive la Republique ! ' " 

The boy made no answer, but went on with his 
dressing. 

" Hey ! Who am I talking to here? " cried the 
cobbler, furiously. " Accursed King of Montbrison, 
will you shout ^Vive la Republique!' quickly — 
or — " and he made a significant gesture with his 
clenched fist. 

The Prince raised his head with a resolute ex- 
pression, and, looking full at his tormentor, repHed 
in a clear, firm voice : " You may do what you 
choose with me, but I will never cry, ^ Vive la 
Republique ! ' " 

He spoke so proudly and nobly that even this 
hardened villain gave way before him, and for once 
did not venture to do him any violence. 

" Good, good ! " said Simon with a sneer, to cover 
his discomfiture ; " I will see that your behavior is 
made known." And indeed he did repeat the 
whole incident to everyone in the Temple ; but no 
one blamed the Prince, and some even praised him 
for his strength of character. 

[I..] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

The next morning the cobbler seemed to have 
repented of his weakness. He procured an account 
of the y?/^ of the preceding day, and forced the boy 
to stand and listen while he read it aloud. The 
Prince obeyed ; but at one part, which contained a 
gross insult to his father, he could no longer con- 
trol his rebellious feelings, and retired to one of the 
window recesses to hide his face and his tears. 
Simon hurried after him, dragged him roughly back 
by the hair to the table, and ordered him, under 
pain of a beating, to stand there and listen quietly 
and attentively. Then he resumed his reading, and 
laid particular emphasis on the words : " Let us 
swear to defend the Constitution unto death ; the 
Repubhc shall live forever ! " 

" Do you hear that, Capet ? " he shouted ; " the 
Republic shall live forever ! " 

The child made no reply, and did not even raise 
his head ; his face was hidden in his hands. 

"You cursed young wolf!'' roared Simon, 
choking with passion, "yesterday you would not 
shout ' Vive la Republique ! ' but you see now, 
blockhead, that the Republic shall live forever ! 
You shall say with us, 'The Republic shall live 
forever ! ' " 

[112] 



THE COBBLER SIMON 



As he spoke, he seized the Dauphin by both 
shoulders and shook him with all his strength, as 
if to force the words from his mouth. After ex- 
hausting his fury, the cobbler paced up and down 
the floor for some time, then stopped beside the 
bed of the weeping child and said gruffly : 

"It is your own fault, fool ; you well deserved 
your treatment." 

" Let him alone, Simon," said his wife ; " he is 
bhnd, the little one. He was brought up on lies 
and deception, and knows no better." And, some- 
what disconcerted, the cobbler turned away. 

Not long after this, the police scattered through 
the streets of the city low songs and scurrilous 
rhymes against the " Austrian she-wolf," as the un- 
fortunate Marie Antoinette was called, and Simon 
procured some of these sheets. 

" Come, Capet," said he one day to the little Prince, 
holding out to him some abominable verses about his 
mother, " here is a new song you must sing for me." 

The boy glanced at the song, and threw it indig- 
nantly on the table. Simon immediately flew into 
a rage, and said threateningly : 

" I believe I said you should sing, and you shall 



sing ! 



["3] 



»THE LITTLE DAUPHIN » 

" I will never sing such a song as that ! " replied 
the boy, with a firm determination against which the 
cobbler's rage was powerless. 

" I tell youj I will strike you dead if you do not 
sing ! '' he shouted, seizing an iron grating from the 
chimney-place. 

" Never ! " retorted the Prince, and the furious 
brute actually hurled the heavy iron at the boy's 
head, and would certainly have killed him if he had 
not been quick enough to dodge the missile. 

Scenes like this were of daily occurrence in the 
cruel prison of the Temple. Simon left nothing 
undone to accomplish his terrible purpose and rid 
the Convention of the unfortunate child. He kept 
his prisoner on an irregular diet, forcing him one 
day to eat and drink to excess, and the next leaving 
him to suffer from hunger. With diabolical calcu- 
lation, he did everything possible to undermine the 
health of the Dauphin, and succeeded only too well. 
He gradually sickened, and an attack of fever helped 
to reduce his strength. He slowly recovered, it is 
true ; but his old vigor of mind and body never 
returned. They took advantage of his illness to 
make him sign a deposition against his mother ; and 
this false statement, extorted from him while he was 
["4] 



^'THE COBBLER SIMQN# 

too weak to resist, was used by the bloodthirsty 
Convention to bring the Queen's head to the scaffold. 
The rising in La Vendee also brought fresh abuse 
upon the Prince. The Vendeans had proclaimed 
him King, and Simon made merry, with some of his 
friends who were visiting him, over the " King of 
La Vendee." 

" For all that,** said one of them, " there are signs 
of change in the air, and it would be curious if this 
monkey should be a King sometime ! " 

" At least, citizen," returned Simon, " he will 
never be King of Paris — trust me for that ! " 

The Prince, crouching at the foot of his bed, had 
been obliged to overhear all this, with other cruel 
and bloodthirsty jests about the son of " Louis the 
Shortened." After the guests had finally departed, 
Simon remained some time longer in the room, 
quarrelling with his wife, who did not attempt to con- 
ceal her fears for the future. The little Prince had 
not dared to leave his place, and heard Simon say : 

" If the Vendeans should ever advance as far as 
Paris, I will throttle the young wolf before I will 
give him up to them." 

He kept as still as he could, fearing that the 
least sound or movement would bring down on 

["5] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

his head the storm that seemed ready to burst. 
Suddenly Simon came up to him, seized him by 
the ear, and led him to the table in the middle of 
the room. 

" Capet/' said he, " if the Vendeans should set 
you free, what would you do with me ? " 

"I would forgive you," replied the child, calmly. 

Such an answer might have softened the hardest 
heart, but it only increased the cobbler's hatred for 
him. Poor helpless, forsaken child ! They had 
robbed him of his mother, too, now, for the 
Queen had been dragged to the guillotine on the 
sixteenth of October, though, happily, of this he 
knew nothing.^ 

The poor little Prince had become sadly changed. 
The face that had been so fresh and smiling was 



1 *' Marie Antoinette died upon the scaffold as bravely as the King had done. 
Her trial was a mock one, for her execution had been decided upon before she was 
tried. She was never liked by the French people, and all sorts of charges had been 
made against her, many of them untrue. She had inherited her ideas of royalty 
and absolution from her mother, Maria Theresa of Austria, and never showed any 
interest in the lower classes. Her biographer in the Encyclopaedia Britannica says : 
*' In the Marie Antoinette who suffered on the guillotine we pity, not the pleasure- 
loving gueen; not the widow who had kept her husband against his will in the 
wrong course; not the woman who throughout her married life did not scruple to 
show her contempt for her slow and heavy but good-natured and loving King, but 
the little princess, sacrificed to state policy and cast uneducated and without a helper 
into the frivolous court of France, not to be loved but to be suspected by all around 
her and eventually to be hated by the whole people of France." 

[1.6] 



THE COBBLER SIMON 



deeply lined, and bore the marks of sorrow and 
suffering ; the once clear, rosy complexion had grown 
dull and sallow ; his limbs looked too long and thin 
for his size, and his back was bent a little, as if with 
the weight of his trouble. Since he had found that 
all his actions, and even his words, brought abuse 
or derision upon him he remained silent, scarcely dar- 
ing to answer the simplest question with " yes " or 
"no." He was like a deaf-mute, and at last his 
mind began to be confused. He scarcely seemed to 
remember his past life or realize his present situation. 
Now that he no longer afforded Simon any excuse 
for beating him, that foul wretch found himself com- 
pelled to devise other means of venting his brutality 
and hastening the end of his victim. 

Yet the Dauphin was not entirely destitute of 
friends and sympathizers. One of the turnkeys, 
named Gourlet, and Meunier, a servant in the Tem- 
ple, ventured upon the dangerous attempt to pro- 
vide him with a little diversion. The child had 
expressed a desire for some birds, and Meunier im 
mediately exerted himself to obtain some canaries. 
He went to several families whose devotion to the 
royal house was known to him, and, on his stating 
his purpose, they hastened to place their birds at his 

[117] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

disposal. He returned to the Temple with ten or 
twelve canaries, all of which were well tamed and 
trained. Their gay chirping and flutterings brought 
life and cheerfulness into the gloomy prison, and, 
full of delight, the little Prince caught them one 
after another, and kissed them. There was one of 
the winged band he noticed particularly. It was 
tamer and more affectionate than all the rest, and 
would come flying to him at the softest call, to perch 
on his outstretched finger, seeming to enjoy the 
caresses he bestowed on it. For this bird, the little 
Prince soon conceived an especial affection ; he spent 
much time with it, fed it millet seed from his hand 
or his mouth, and, in order to be able to distinguish 
it more readily from the others, he fastened a little 
red ribbon on one of its feet. Whenever he called, 
the tiny creature would come to him instantly, alight 
first on his head, then hop to his shoulder, and 
finally settle itself upon his finger. 

These playmates made the poor little prisoner 
very happy ; but it was too pleasant, too sweet, to 
last long. On the nineteenth of December a visit of 
inspection was made, and when the officers entered, 
the Prince's yellow favorite was trilling its clear, 
shrill notes in a burst of song. 
[ii8] 



*THE COBBLER SIMON* 

" What is the meaning of this ? " cried one of 
the deputies, roughly. " The bird there is wearing 
a red ribbon like an order ! That savors too much 
of aristocracy, and signifies a distinction that no 
good republican should tolerate." 

With these words he seized the poor little song- 
ster, tore the ribbon from its foot, and hurled it 
against the wall. Happily, the bird used its 
wings, and saved itself from being killed ; it fell 
to the floor indeed, but soon started up again and 
mingled with its companions, uttering soft, plaintive 
notes. 

The little Prince, horror-stricken, could not take 
his eyes from his feathered friend. He had not 
been able to repress a cry at the cruel act, but 
did not dare to show any concern or sympathy, 
for fear of making matters worse. Poor child ! as 
a result of this unlucky visit, all the birds that had 
afforded him so much innocent pleasure were ruth- 
lessly taken away from him. It had been indeed 
too pleasant to last ! Simon's fear that he might 
be blamed for allowing the creatures in the prison 
increased his resentment against the Dauphin, and 
he nursed his wrath until he could find an outlet 
for it. The opportunity soon came. 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

The next day he happened to take a foot-bath, 
and, as it was very agreeable to him to be waited 
on by a King's son, he ordered the boy to warm 
the linen for drying his feet. TrembHng with fear 
of his brutal jailer, the poor child obeyed with 
more haste than dexterity, and in his agitation 
dropped a towel into the fire. The cobbler's feet 
were in the water, and, foaming with rage at his 
inability to reach the child, he hurled the most 
frightful imprecations at him. After a few moments, 
the Dauphin, thinking his master's fury had passed, 
knelt down to dry Simon's feet, and the monster 
profited by this opportunity to give him a kick 
that sent him half across the room and stretched 
him on the floor. As if stunned by the shock, the 
poor child lay there motionless ; but, not content 
with this, the cobbler beat and kicked him, over- 
whelming him at the same time with the vilest 
epithets until his breath gave out. Then, seeing that 
his victim was still conscious and able to move, he 
ordered him to stand up ; and the poor little Prince 
was obliged to rise and drag himself into a corner, 
where he was suffered to remain, weeping piteously. 

The jailer grew more vindictive every day, his 
passions more malignant ; and his temper was not 

[,20] 



! i 




T 



'HE Cobbler and his little 'victim 



*THE COBBLER SIMON* 

improved when his wife became so dangerously ill 
that the services of a physician were required. A 
surgeon named Nautin, a worthy, respectable man, 
was called in, prescribed a remedy, and promised to 
come again the next day. As he was leaving, he 
passed through the room where Simon sat with 
his charge and some of the municipal officers. The 
boy had refused to sing a licentious song as Simon 
had ordered, and, just as the surgeon entered, the 
cobbler flung himself upon the child, lifted him up 
by the hair and shook him, shouting furiously : 

" Accursed viper ! I have a mind to dash you to 
pieces against the wall ! " 

The doctor hastened to the spot and snatched 
the Dauphin from Simon's grasp, crying angrily : 

" Villain, what are you doing ? " 

Taken aback by this interference, Simon re- 
coiled without a word, and for the time being did 
not venture to maltreat the Prince any further. 
On the following day the surgeon again visited 
his patient, and was greatly surprised and touched 
when suddenly, as he was passing through the 
room where the Dauphin was confined, the little 
prisoner seized his hand and offered him two pears 
which he had saved from his own meal. 

[121] 



* THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

" Take them, please, dear sir/' he said in his 
touching voice ; " yesterday you showed that you 
have an interest in me. I thank you for it, but 
have no way of proving my gratitude. Will you 
not take these pears, then ? It will make me very 
happy ! " 

The old man pressed the child's hand kindly, but 
did not speak. He accepted the present, and a tear 
that rolled down his cheek betrayed the emotion 
he could not find words to express. 

So noble was the nature of this royal child that 
even the terrible treatment he had received had not 
entirely destroyed his sensibilities — at the slightest 
touch of kindness or sympathy they sprang to life 
again. Never had he forgotten his mother's ad- 
monitions. Sometimes he even recalled them in 
his dreams ; and once it happened that Simon over- 
heard him when, in his sleep, he knelt with folded 
hands and prayed fervently to God. Unmoved by 
this touching sight, the cobbler awakened his wife to 
look at the strange dreamer ; then, seizing a pitcher 
of water, he suddenly dashed it over the little bowed 
head, regardless of the danger that the shock of 
such an ice-cold shower-bath on a January night 
might kill the child. Instantly seized with a chill, 

[122] 



THE COBBLER SIMON 



the Prince threw himself back on his bed without 
uttering a sound. But the dampness of his couch 
allowed him no rest. He got up again and sought 
refuge on the floor with his pillow — the only part 
of his bed that had escaped the deluge. As he 
crouched there, his teeth chattering with cold, 
Simon sprang up again in spite of his wife's efforts 
to detain him, grasped the child with both hands, 
and shook him violently, crying: 

"I will teach you to get up in the night to recite 
your paternosters, like a Trappist ! " Then as if 
in a frenzy he rushed at the boy with such a malig- 
nant expression upon his cruel face that the poor 
little Prince caught at the arms of his ferocious 
jailer and cried : 

" Oh, what have I done that you should want to 
murder me ? " 

" Murder you ! As if that was what I wanted ! 
Don't you know that, if I wished to murder you, 
I could take you by the throat and stop your noise 
in no time ? " 

So speaking, he flung the boy roughly back into 
his bed, which had been turned into a veritable 
pond. Without a word, he sank down on his 
wretched cot, shivering with cold and terror, while 

[123] 



»TH£ LITTLE DAUPHIN^ 

the cobbler retired to his own rest filled with savage 
satisfaction. After this dreadful night the poor little 
Dauphin fell into a state of utter despair and apathy. 
Even his tearful glances no longer appealed to his 
brutal keeper. His eyes were always fixed on the 
floor. The last remnants of his courage were gone ; 
he had finally succumbed to his fate. 

Nevertheless, the terrible Simon was not to enjoy 
the triumph of seeing his victim expire at his feet. 
The municipal council had decreed that for the 
future the prisoner was to be guarded by four of 
its members, who were to serve as deputies, and on 
the nineteenth of January, 1794, Simon and his wife 
were removed from the Temple. The parting words 
of the cobbler to the innocent child he had tortured 
so barbarously were quite in keeping with his char- 
acter. His wife had said : 

" Capet, I do not know whether I shall ever 
see you again ! " And Simon added : " Oh ! he 
is not crushed yet ; but he will never get out of 
this prison — not if all the saints of heaven moved 
in his behalf!" 

A last blow accompanied these words, which the 
poor little Prince, who stood before him with down- 
cast eyes, received meekly and apathetically, without 
[124] 



*THE COBBLER S I M O N # 

even a glance at his departing jailer. But Simon 
did not escape the vengeance of Heaven. The 
cruel cobbler perished on the scaffold on the twenty- 
eighth of July, 1794, together with Robespierre and 
other monsters of the Revolution. 



[1^5] 



Chapter VI 
The End of Sorrows 



l/~~l r^^^HE removal of Simon released the Dau- 
phin from actual physical abuse, but on 
the whole there was not much change 
for the better in his situation. The 
leaders of the Revolution felt no pity for the royal 
child ; and instead of appointing a successor to the 
cobbler, they doomed him to solitary confinement. 
The door of communication between his prison and 
the anteroom was securely fastened with nails and 
screws, and crossed from top to bottom with iron 
bars. Three or four feet from the floor there was 
a small opening over a little shelf, covered by a 
movable iron grating, which was secured by a pad- 
lock. Through this opening or wicket little Capet 
was supplied with food and water, and when he had 
eaten he replaced the empty vessels on the shelf. 
They allowed him neither light nor fire. His 
room was heated only by the flue from a stove in 
the antechamber, and lighted only by a lamp which 
[126] 



# THE END OF SORROWS^* 

hung opposite the wicket. Here the poor child 
spent the terrible days and nights, his only way of 
reckoning time ; for years, months, weeks, days, 
were all one in his confused brain. Time, like a 
stagnant pool, had ceased to flow for him. There 
was nothing but suffering to mark the hours, hence 
they were indistinguishable. 

We will pass quickly over this period — one 
long monotonous round of misery and wretchedness, 
that lasted without intermission for more than six 
months. During all that time the air of heaven 
did not once penetrate to this barred cell, and only 
a faint glimmer of daylight pierced the grating and 
the close, heavy shutters. The Httle prisoner never 
saw the guards who thrust his scanty meals to him 
through the wicket; he heard no sound but the 
creaking of bolts and a harsh voice, which at the 
close of day ordered him to go to bed, since there 
was no light for him. The solitude and loneliness 
lay upon his spirit like a leaden weight. Without 
work, without play, without diversion or occupation 
of any kind, how endless must the days have been ! 
And then the night and darkness, with its vague 
phantoms, its indefinable terrors, chilling the child's 
blood with fear ! 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

Many such days and nights passed, but no word, 
no sound of complaint, escaped from the dark cell. 
The wicket was opened every day, but the little 
Prince never sought for pity or compassion. He 
had given up all hope of human sympathy, and 
trusted only to the mercy of God ; hoped only for 
a speedy death and for everlasting peace beyond. 

The deputies, whose duty it was to guard the 
Dauphin, were cruel and unfeeling — if not naturally 
so, then because they feared to be otherwise. At 
nightfall they would go up to the den of the 
" young wolf" to assure themselves that he was 
alive and had not escaped. If he did not answer 
their harsh summons at once, they would open the 
wicket with a great clattering and shout : 

"Capet, Capet! Are you asleep? Where are 
you ? Get up, viper ! " 

The child, so rudely aroused, would drag himself 
with trembling limbs from his wretched bed to the 
grating, his feet colder than the damp floor on which 
he trod, to answer gently : 

" Here I am ! " 

" Come nearer, then, so we can see you ! " 
they would cry, holding up a lantern to light the 
cell. 

[128] 



4-THE END OF SORROWS* 

" Very good ! Go to bed again ! '* 

Two hours later there would be another rattling 
of bolts, other deputies would appear, and again the 
Prince would be roused from his sleep and com- 
pelled, half-naked and shivering with cold and 
terror, to answer the questions of his jailers. This 
persecution soon exhausted him mentally and 
physically. The lack of fresh air, the darkness 
and soHtude, benumbed all his faculties. He no 
longer wept. His feeble hands could scarcely lift 
the earthen plate or jug in which his food and 
water were brought. He had ceased to try to clean 
his room ; he no longer had even the strength to 
shake up the sack of straw that formed his bed, or 
to turn the mattress. The bedclothes were never 
changed, and his pillow was in tatters ; he could 
not get clean linen or mend his ragged clothes ; 
he had not resolution enough to wash and clean 
himself, but lay patiently on his bed most of the 
time, his dull eyes staring into vacancy. 

How often must he have prayed to God, " When, 
oh ! when, will my sufferings end ? " How long — 
how long it must have seemed before the Almighty 
listened to the feeble voice and sent the blessed 
release of death. But at last the petition was heard, 
9 [129] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

and a gleam of human pity brightened the last days 
of this innocent victim of man's cruelty. 

After the execution of Robespierre^ and his asso- 
ciates in the Reign of Terror, better days dawned 
for the little Prince. The new government sent 
him a jailer named Laurentj who v/as kind and 
humane, and dared to show his pity for his prisoner. 
He had the barred door opened, and, horror-stricken 
at the sight disclosed, at once took measures to 
relieve the poor child, whom he found cowering on 
a filthy bed, clothed in rags, his back bent as if with 
age, his little body covered with sores. The once 
lovely child showed scarcely a trace of his former 
beauty. His face was yellow and emaciated, his 
eyes dim and sunken ; he was ill, and the bright 
and vigorous mind was no longer active. " I 
want to die ! I want to die ! " were the only words 
Laurent was able to draw from him at his first 
visit. 

The kindly jailer lost no time in bettering his 
situation as far as he could. The barred door with 



1 Maximilien Robespierre, one of the most prominent among the revolutionists, 
was the leader of the extreme Left in the Constituent Assembly, and a member of 
the Committee of Public Safety in 1793. He was also identified with the Reign 
of Terror, but was finally stripped of all his power, and was guillotined July 28, 
1794. 

[^30] 



-I* THE END OF SORROWS €^ 

the wicket was removed, the shutters taken down 
from the windows to admit the light and air freely, 
and the cell thoroughly cleaned. One of his first 
cares was to have the boy bathed, cleaned, and 
placed in another bed. He also sent for a physi- 
cian, and ordered a tailor to make some new clothes 
for his charge. At first the poor little Prince could 
not understand these expressions of sympathy and 
kindness. He had suffered so much and so deeply 
from the inhumanity of men, that his crushed sensi- 
bilities were slow in starting to life again. 

" Why do you trouble yourself about me ? " he 
asked one day, and when Laurent made some 
kindly answer, added, with a swelling heart, " I 
thought no one cared for me any more ! " while 
he tried to hide his tears. 

Simon had introduced the custom of addressing 
the Prince simply as "Capet"; Laurent changed 
this, and called him by his first name, " M. Charles." 
He also obtained permission for him to walk on 
the platform of the Tower whenever he chose, and 
enjoy the blue sky and the sunshine again after his. 
long, sad imprisonment. Here, one day, he found 
some little yellow flowers that were trying to live in 
the seams and crevices of the crumbling stone. He 

[>3i] 



-4* THE LITTLE DAUPHIN 4* 

gathered them eagerly, and tied them into a little 
nosegay, recalling, perhaps, the sunny days of his 
early childhood. 

On the ninth of November, 1794, a second jailer 
arrived — a man named Gomin, who, like Laurent, 
was kind and tender-hearted. It was settled be- 
tween them that they should share the same room, 
an arrangement which suited Laurent very well, 
since it gave him more freedom ; and both men 
exerted themselves to make their little captive's 
dull days as cheerful as possible. They would have 
done even more for him had they not been re- 
strained by the presence of a deputy, who was re- 
quired to share their guard over the Dauphin. 
These deputies were frequently changed. If the 
choice of their superiors happened to fall on a man 
who was friendly and obliging, Laurent and Gomin 
could usually obtain small favors from him. Thus, 
on the third day after his arrival in the Temple, 
Gomin made use of the good-will of a deputy 
named Bresson to obtain for the Prince four plants 
in pots, all in full bloom. The sight of these 
flowers was a most wonderful surprise to the poor 
child, and his eyes filled with tears of joy and hap- 
piness. He went around and around them, as if 
[13^] 



THE END OF SORROWS ^1 



intoxicated with delight, clasped them in his arms, 
and inhaled their fragrance. He devoured them 
with his eyes, examined every blossom, and finally 
picked one. Then he looked at Gomin with a 
troubled expression ; an innocent, childish memory 
trembled in his heart. He thought of his mother ! 
Alas, poor child ! For her no more should earthly 
flowers bloom, nor wert thou ever to be permitted 
to lay a blossom on her grave ! 

Soon after this, a deputy named Delboy came to 
the Temple. He was coarse and uncouth in ap- 
pearance, and had a gruff, harsh voice. With an air 
of brutality, he opened all the prison doors, and 
behaved in a rude and boorish manner ; but under 
this rough exterior was concealed a softness of heart 
and highmindedness that greatly surprised the little 
prisoner. 

" Why this miserable food ? " he said one day, 
glancing at the Dauphin's scanty meal. "If he 
were in the Tuileries, we might question what he 
had to eat — but here in our hands! We should 
be merciful to him ; the nation is magnanimous ! 
What are these shutters for ? Under the govern- 
ment of the people, the sun shines for all, and this 
child is entitled to his share of it. Whv should a 

' [133] 






*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

brother be prevented from seeing his sister ? Our 
watchword is fraternity ! " 

The Prince gazed at him in open-eyed astonish- 
ment, and followed every movement of this rough 
stranger, whose friendly words were such a contrast 
to his forbidding aspect. 

Is it not so, my boy," continued the deputy ; 

would you not be very happy if you could play 
with your sister ? I do not see why the nation 
should remember your origin if you forget it." 

Then, turning to Laurent and Gomin, he added : 
" It is not his fault that he is the son of a King. 
He is only a child — an unfortunate one, too — and 
should not be treated so harshly. He is, at least, a 
human being ; and is not France the mother of all 
her children ? " 

After his departure, Gomin hastened to procure 
more comforts for the Prince, and took pains to see 
that he had a light in his room at night, for which 
the poor child was very grateful. He was not 
allowed to see his sister, Marie Therese, however, 
as the government had strictly forbidden it. But 
all the care and attention of his jailers could not 
save him from being attacked by a bad fever, and 
unfortunately the deputies were not all so consid- 
[134] 



-I- THE END OF SORROWS* 

erate as the rough but kindly Delboy. Some of 
them terrified him by harsh threats and insults, 
which by no means improved his condition. One 
man, named Careaux, to whom Gomin applied for 
permission to send for a physician for the sick child, 
had the heartless insolence to reply : 

" Pah ! never mind him. There are plenty of 
children dying all the time who are of more conse- 
quence than he ! " 

A day or two afterward, Gomin was painfully sur- 
prised to hear the poor boy, muttering to himself, 
repeat the words, " Many children die who are of 
more consequence ! " and from this time he sank 
into a state of the deepest melancholy and failed 
rapidly. It was with di-iiculty that Gomin could 
induce him to go up to the roof of the Tower, even 
when he had the strength ; and soon, indeed, his feet 
could no longer support him, and his jailers were 
obliged to carry him up in their arms. The disease 
made such terrible progress in a few days that the 
government finally felt it necessary to send a depu- 
tation to the Temple to inquire into the condition 
of the prisoner. Nothing came of it, however. 
No physician v/as summoned, no remedies applied, 
and the Dauphin was left to sink slowly into the 

[135] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

grave. It was plain that his death had been de- 
termined on by the government, and disease was 
allowed to finish the work which that unspeakable 
wretch, the cobbler Simon, had begun so well. 

Gomin still had hope, nevertheless, and used 
every means in his power to add to the child's small 
pleasures and recreations. He found some books, 
which the Prince read eagerly ; and, through an ac- 
quaintance named Debierne, obtained a turtle-dove 
for him, but it did not live long. They often 
played draughts together; the Prince did not un- 
derstand the game very well, but the kind-hearted 
jailer always contrived to let his small opponent 
win. Shuttlecock, too, was a favorite amusement 
when the child's strength permitted, and at this he 
proved very skilful. His eye was sure, his hand 
quick, and he always rested the left one lightly on 
his hip while the right was busy with the battledore. 

On the twenty-ninth of March, 1795, Laurent 
left the Temple, and was replaced by Etienne Lasne, 
a house painter and soldier of the Guard. The 
Prince thereby lost one friend, but gained another, 
for Lasne from the beginning showed the heartiest 
good-will toward him, and soon learned how to win 
his affection. He would spend hours playing with 

[.36] 



*THE END OF SORROWS* 

him, sing lively songs while Gomin joined in with 
his violin, or entertain him with humorous fancies ; 
and his devotion so won the child's love and confi- 
dence that the Dauphin always used the familiar 
" thou " in speaking to him, although such had 
never been his custom. 

All this time the condition of the little Dauphin 
had been growing worse so steadily that finally, at 
the urgent demands of the jailers, a physician was 
sent for. M. Desault treated him and prescribed 
some remedies, though he gave Gomin to under- 
stand from the first that he had little hope of the 
boy's recovery. They moved him into a room that 
was more light and sunny, but he was very weak, 
and the change did little to check the progress of 
the disease. Though his kind friend often carried 
him up to the platform on the Tower, the slight im- 
provement wrought by breathing the fresh air scarcely 
compensated for the fatigue the effort cost him. 

In the course of centuries, the rain had hollowed 
out a sort of little basin on the battlements of the 
platform, where the water would remain for several 
days, and as there were frequent rains in the spring of 
1795, this reservoir was never empty. Every time 
the Prince was carried to the roof, he saw a number 

[■37] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN 4- 

of sparrows that came daily to the little pool to 
drink and bathe in it. At first they would fly away 
at his approach, but after a time they became ac- 
customed to seeing him, and only took flight when 
he came too close. They were always the same 
ones, and he learned to know them. Perhaps they, 
like himself, had grown familiar with the old Tower. 
He called them his birds. As soon as the door 
was opened, his first glance would be toward the 
little basin, and the sparrows were always there. 
When he approached, they would all rise in the air, 
fluttering and chirping; but after he had passed, they 
would settle down again at once. Supported by his 
jailer's arm and leaning against the wall, he would 
often stand perfectly motionless for a long time, 
watching the birds alight and dip their little beaks 
in the water, then their breasts, fluttering their 
wings and shaking the drops off their feathers, 
while the poor little invalid would clasp his keeper's 
arm tightly, as if to say : " Alas ! I cannot do that ! " 
Sometimes, v/ith this support, he would take several 
steps forward, till he was so near he could almost 
touch them with his outstretched arm. This was 
his greatest pleasure ; he loved their cheerful twit- 
tering and quick, alert motions. 
[138] 




CT^HE Dauphin and the sparro^ws 



* THE END OF SORROWS* 

The physician, M. Desault, came every morn- 
ing at nine o^clock to see his patient, and often 
remained with him for some time. The Prince 
was very fond of the good old man, and showed his 
gratitude both in words and looks. Suddenly, 
however, his visits ceased, and they learned that he 
had died unexpectedly on the thirty-first of May. 
The little Prince wept when he was told of it, and 
mourned sincerely for his kind friend. The chief 
surgeon, M. Pelletan, took his place ; but he, too, 
had no hope of being able to prolong the life of the 
child, who, like a delicate plant deprived of light 
and air, gradually drooped and faded. Yet he bore 
his sufferings without a murmur or complaint. 
The plant was dying ; its bright colors were gone, 
but its sweet fragrance remained to the last, 

M. Pelletan, who realized only too well his dan- 
gerous condition, had requested from the govern- 
ment the advice and assistance of another physician, 
and on the seventh of June M. Dumaugin was sent to 
accompany him to the Temple. The Prince's weak- 
ness had increased alarmingly, and that morning, 
after having taken his medicine and been rubbed 
as usual, he had sunk into a sort of swoon, which 
made the jailers fear the end was near. He re- 

[^39] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

vived a little, however, when the physicians ar- 
rived ; but they saw plainly it was useless to attempt 
to check the malady. They ordered a glass of 
sweetened water to be given to him, to cool his dry, 
parched mouth, if he should wish to drink, and 
withdrew with a painful sense of their helplessness. 
M. Pelletan was of the opinion that the little Prince 
would not live through another day, but his col- 
league did not think the end would come so soon. 
It was agreed that M. Pelletan should make his 
visit at eight o'clock the next morning, and M. 
Dumaugin was to come at eleven. 

When Gomin entered the room that evening 
with the Dauphin's supper, he was pleasantly sur- 
prised to find the sick child a little improved. His 
color was better, his eyes brighter, his voice stronger. 

" Oh, it is you ! " he said at once to his jailer, 
with evident pleasure at seeing him. 

" You are not suffering so much now ? " asked 
Gomin. 

" Not so much," answered the Prince softly. 

" You must thank this room for that," said 

Gomin. " Here there is at least fresh air to breathe, 

and plenty of light; the good doctors come to see 

you, and you should find a little comfort in all this." 

[140] 



#THE END OF SORROWS* 

At these words the Prince looked up at his jailer 
with an expression of deepest sadness. His eyes 
grew dim, then shone suddenly bright again, as a 
tear trickled through his lashes and rolled down his 
cheek. 

" Alone — always alone ! " was his answer. " And 
my mother has been over there, in that other Tower, 
all this time ! '* 

He did^not know that she, as well as his aunt, 
Madame Elisabeth, had long since been dragged to 
the guillotine, and all the warmth and tenderness of 
which the poor child's heart was still capable of 
feelino: were fixed on the mother from whose arms 
he had been so cruelly torn. This childish affec- 
tion had survived through everything ; it was as 
strong as his will, as deep as his nature. " Love,'* 
says the Holy Scriptures, " is stronger than death," 
and this child confirmed the saying. Now, when 
his mind was dwelling on memories of the past and 
the recollection of his sufferings, every other 
thought was forgotten, and his tried and tortured 
heart had room for no other image than that of his 
dearly and tenderly beloved mother. 

" It is true you are often alone here, and that is 
sad, to be sure," continued Gomin ; " but then you 

[HI] 



* THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

no longer have the sight of so many bad men 
around you, or the example of so many wicked 
actions." 

" Oh, I have seen enough of them," murmured 
the child ; " but," he added in a gentler tone, 
laying his hand on the arm of his kindly jailer and 
raising his eyes to his face, " I see good people also, 
and they keep me from being angry with those who 
are not." 

At this, Gomin said suddenly : " That wicked 
Careaux you have seen here so often, as deputy, has 
been arrested, and is now in prison himself." 

The Prince started. 

" Careaux ? " he repeated. " He did not treat 
me well. But I am sorry. Is he here ? " 

" No, in La Force, in the Quartier St. Antoine." 

An ordinary nature would have harbored some 
feeling of revenge, but this royal child had the 
greatness of soul to pity his persecutor. 

" I am very sorry for him ; he is more unhappy 
than we, for he deserves his misfortunes ! " 

Words so simple and yet so noble, on the lips of 

a child scarcely ten years old, may be wondered at ; 

nevertheless, they were actually spoken by the 

Dauphin, and the words themselves did not impress 

[142] 



*THE END OF SORROWS 4* 

Gomin so much as the sincere and touching tone in 
which they were spoken. Without doubt, misfor- 
tune and suffering had matured the child's mind 
prematurely, and he may have been inspired by some 
invisible presence from above, such as God often 
sends to the bedside of the suffering and dying. 

Night came on — the last night the poor little 
prisoner was to spend in solitude and loneliness, with 
only those old companions, misery of mind and 
body. He had always been left alone at night, even 
during his illness ; and not until eight o'clock in the 
morning were his jailers allowed to go to him. We 
do not know how the Prince passed that last night, 
or whether he waked or slept ; but in either case 
death was hovering close beside his pillow. The 
next morning, Monday, the eighth of June, Lasne 
entered the room between seven and eight o'clock, 
Gomin not daring to go first for fear he should not 
find their charge alive. But by the time M. Pelletan 
arrived the Prince was sitting up, and Lasne thought 
he had even improved somewhat since the day 
before, though the physician's more experienced eye 
told him there was no change for the better. Indeed, 
the poor little invalid, whose feet felt strangely heavy, 
soon wanted to lie down again. 

[H3] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

When M. Dumaugin came at eleven o'clock, the 
Prince was in bed ; but he welcomed him with the 
unvarying gentleness and sweetness that had never 
deserted him through all his troubles, and to which 
the physician himself testified later on. He shrugged 
his shoulders over the patient's condition, and felt 
that the end was not far off. After he had taken 
his leave, Gomin replaced Lasne in the sick room. 
He seated himself near the bed, but, fearing to rouse 
or disturb the child, did not speak. The Prince 
never began a conversation, and was silent likewise, 
gazing mournfully at his friend. 

" How unhappy it makes me to see you suffer so 
much ! " said Gomin at last. 

" Never mind," answered the child softly, " I 
shall not always suffer." 

Gomin knelt down by the bed to be nearer him, 
and the affectionate child seized his keeper's hand 
and pressed it to his lips. At this, Gomin gave way 
to his emotion, and his heart went out in prayer — 
the prayer that man in his deepest sorrow sends up 
to the all-merciful Father ; while the Prince, still 
clasping the faithful hand in his, raised his eyes to 
heaven with a look of angelic peace and holiness 
impossible to describe. After a time, Gomin, 
[H4] 



*THE END OF SORROWS* 

seeing that he lay quiet and motionless, said to 
him : 

" I hope you do not suffer nov/ ? " 

" Ohj yes, I still suffer," whispered the Prince, 
" but much less — the music is so beautiful ! " 

Now, there was no music in or near the Temple 
at this solemn moment; no noise of any kind from 
outside entered the room where the soul of the little 
martyr was preparing for flight. Gomin, much 
surprised, therefore, asked h'm : 

" Where does the music come from ? " 

" From above there ! " replied the child. 

" Is it long that you have heard it ? " 

" Since you knelt down by me and prayed. 
Have you not heard it ? Listen — listen now ! " 

With a quick motion he held up his feeble hand, 
his blue eyes shining with rapture, while Gomin, 
not wishing to dispel this last sweet illusion of the 
dying child, made a pious effort to hear what could 
not be heard, and pretended to be listening to the 
music. In a few moments the Prince raised himself 
suddenly and cried out in an ecstasy of joy : 

" Oh ! among all those voices I can hear my 
mother's ! " and as this holy name escaped the 
orphan's lips, all his pain and sorrow seemed to dis- 
10 [145] 



#THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

appear. His eyebrows, drawn with suffering, re- 
laxed and his eyes sparkled with the light of victory 
and freedom. But the radiance of his glance was 
soon dimmed ; the old worn look came back to his 
face and he sank back, his hands crossed meekly on 
his breast. Gomin watched him closely and followed 
all his movements with anxious eyes. His breathing 
was not more difficult, but his eyes wandered about 
vacantly and absently, and were often fixed on the 
window. Gomin asked if anything troubled him, 
but he did not seem to hear even when the question 
was repeated, and made no reply. Lasne came soon 
after to relieve Gomin, who left his little friend with 
a heavy heart, although he did not realize the end 
was so near. Lasne sat by the bed for a long time 
in silence, the Prince gazing at him sorrowfully ; but 
when he moved a little, Lasne asked him how he 
felt and whether he wanted anything. Instead of 
replying, he asked abruptly : 

"Do you think my sister could hear the music? 
It would make her so happy ! '' 

Lasne could not answer this. The yearning eyes 

of the dying boy, dark with the anguish of death, 

were turned toward the window. Suddenly a cry 

of joy escaped him ; then, turning to Lasne, he said : 

[146] 



*THE END OF SORROWS* 

" I have something to tell you." 

The jailer took his hand — the little head drooped 
upon his breast — he listened, but in vain. The 
last word had been spoken ! God had spared the 
little Dauphin the last agonizing death-struggle, 
and in a last dream of joy and rapture had taken 
him to His loving arms ! 

Lasne laid his hand gently on the child's heart, 
but it no longer beat. That troubled heart was quiet 
now. The little Dauphin had exchanged his sor- 
rowful earthly dwelling for the eternal peace and 
happiness of Heaven — had found his loved ones 
and his God.^ 

Only a few more words, gentle reader. I have 
unrolled a sad picture before you, and, however 
much it may have excited your sympathy, it could 
not be softened, for from beginning to end it is the 
truth and only the truth. The little Dauphin, 
Louis Charles, the son of a King and a King him- 
self, really bore all these sorrows ; he lived, suffered, 
and died as has been described in these pages. A 
conscientious and reliable investigator, M. de Beau- 
chesne, has with untold zeal and patience collected 

1 The Dauphin died in the afternoon of June 8, 1795. 

[■47] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

all the incidents here recounted ;' and the facts have 
been corroborated by Lasne and Gomin, the two 
worthy men who tried to brighten the last days of 
the unfortunate little Prince. 

And now, should you ask what moral is to be 
drawn from this true narrative, I would answer : 
Learn from the perusal of this child's life to be sub- 
missive under affliction and trouble. God keep you 
from pain and sorrow ; but, should they one day fall 
to your lot, then remember the little Dauphin and 
King of France, and endure, as he endured, suffering 
and heart-break with calmness and patience, with 
humility and submission to the will of the Lord, 
before whose mysterious and inscrutable decrees 
weak mortality must bow without repining. 



[148] 



^pp^ntrtjr 



The following is a chronological statement of the most 
important events mentioned in this volume, as vi^ell as of 
those directly connected with the French Revolution : 



August 23, 1754 

1770 

1774 

March 27, 1785 

1789 

May 5, 1789 

June 17, 1789 

July 14, 1789 
July 14, 1790 

June 20, 1 79 1 

June 25, 1791 

September, 1791 

April, 1792 

September 21, 1792 

January 21, 1793 

March, 1793 

April, 1793 

July 3, 1793 

July 13, 1793 

October 16, 1793 

1793-94 



Birth of Louis XVI. 

Marriage of Louis XVI and Marie An- 
toinette. 

Louis XVI ascends the throne. 

Birth of Louis XVII. 

Louis XVII becomes Dauphin. 

Meeting of States General. Revolutionary 
agitations. 

Third Estate takes the name of Constituent 
Assembly. 

Storming of the Bastile. 

The " Feast of the Pikes ** on the Champ 
de Mars, and the oath of Federation. 

Flight of the Royal Family to Varennes. 

Brought back to Paris as captives. 

Constitution adopted. 

War with Prussia and Austria. 

Proclamation of the Repubhc. 

Execution of Louis XVI. 

Establishment of Revolutionary Tribunal. 

Establishment of Committee of Public 
Safety. 

Imprisonment of the Dauphin in the Temple. 

Assassination of Marat. 

Execution of Marie Antoinette. 

Reign of Terror. 

[H9] 



*THE LITTLE DAUPHIN* 

April 6, 1794 Execution of Danton. 

July 27, 1794 Execution of Robespierre. 

June 8, 1795 Death of the Dauphin in the Temple. 

October 5, 1795 Victory of Buonaparte over the Sections. 

1796 Beginning of the Napoleonic Wars. 

November, 1799 Beginning of the Consulate. 

1802 Napoleon made Life Consul. 

March 1 8, 1 804 Establishment of the Empire. 



[•5°] 



LIFE STORIES FOR 
YOUNG PEOPLE 

BIOGRAPHICAL ROMANCES 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN Br 

GEORGE P. UPTON 

A neiv, interesting, and <very useful series that nvill he found especially 
suitable for school libraries and for supplementary reading 

THE books in this series are translated from the German, be- 
cause in that country a specialty is made of really desirable 
reading for the young. Eight titles are now ready and more will 
follow. 

Their simplicity and accuracy make them very useful for every 
school library in the grades. 

For parents who feel disposed to give their children books that 
provide a mild element of historical information, as well as first- 
class entertainment, the little books will prove a veritable find. 

The " life-stories " retain the story form throughout, and embody 
in each chapter a stirring event in the life of the hero or the action 
of the time. The dramatis personae are actual characters, and the 
facts in the main are historically correct. They are therefore both 
entertaining and instructive, and present biography in its most at- 
tractive form for the young. 

A FULL LIST OF THE TITLES IS GIVEN ON THE NEXT PAGE 

The work of translation has been done by Mr. George P. 
Upton, whose '^Memories" and Lives of Beethoven, Haydn, and 
Liszt, from the German of Max Mueller and Dr. Nohl, have been 
so successful. 

Each is a small square i6mo in uniform bin dingy with four 

illustrations. Each 6o cents net, [over] 



LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 

FULL LIST OF TITLES 

Frederick the Great 

The Maid of Orleans 

The Little Dauphin 

Maria Theresa 

William Tell 

Mozart 

Beethoven 

JoHANN Sebastian Bach 

"These narratives have been well calculated for youthful minds 
past infancy, and Mr. Upton's version is easy and idiomatic." — 
Tbe Nation. 

" He is a delightful writer, clearness, strength, and sincerity marking 
everything to which he puts his hand. He has translated these little 
histories from the German in a way that the reader knows has con- 
served all the strength of the original." — Chicago E'vening Post. 

" They are written in simple, graphic style, handsomely illustrated, 
and will be read with delight by the young people for whose benefit 
they have been prepared." — Chicago Tribune. 

** The work of translation seems to have been well done, and these 
little biographies are very well fitted for the use of young people. . . . 
The volumes are compact and neat, and are illustrated sufficiently but 
not too elaborately." — Springfield Republican. 

*' These books are most entertaining and vastly more wholesome than 
the story books with which the appetites of young readers are for the 
most part satisfied." — Indianapolis Journal. 

OF ALL BOOKSELLERS OR OF THE PUBLISHERS 

A. C. McCLURG & CO., CHICAGO 



JEP 22 1905 



